The Professor's Widow
by Autumn Nicole
Summary: 12 years after the final battle, Hermione Granger finds herself in the company of a very alive Severus Snape. Thanks to a potion he has been sent forward through time. Slow-burn SSHG
1. A Blast From The Past

_**The Professor's Widow**_

 **Chapter One**

A Blast From the Past

The dungeon cold didn't permeate her skin anymore. After years of working in the depths of the castle, her body was used to the chill. Even now, in the summer months, the dungeons never warmed up. Hermione was both preparing for the coming term and preparing for the release of her book. Her house may have been undetectable, but it didn't stop the slew of reporters chasing her through London. She preferred the solitude of the castle before the students arrived. Hermione was working in her private lab directly off her office, and the wards were set to the gills. But that didn't stop the crashing sound of electricity ripping through the air and the sudden appearance of a person in her space.

She drew her wand with a steady hand and met the intruder eye to eye. Her gasp was audible. "Impossible," she muttered. "Reveal yourself. What trick is this?" Her wand was pointed directly at the jugular of a man wearing the face of Severus Snape.

"Miss Granger, lower your wand this instant!" His voice barked just as it always did in her memories.

Her wand hand shook, but instead of lowering her wand, she fired a complex glamour removing charm. Snape dodged it moments before the realization of what spell it was settled in on him.

A smirk swept across his features, "You believe me to be an imposter, Miss Granger?" and his eyes swept across the space taking in the minute changes to the lab space. A strange expression settled upon his countenance. He spoke calmly and slowly, "I believe that I have succeeded, and I am from the past."

Silence resonated in the dungeon lab for a moment while Hermione stood stock still processing his words. Yet, she never lowered her wand. "Prove it."

In a somewhat surprising gesture, the professor lowered his wand, "ask me something only I would know…" the smirk returned, "like perhaps which ingredients you stole from my stores in your second year or, hmm, what occurred with Professor Lupin in the Shrieking Shack in your third?"

Hermione rolled her eyes and chuckled, "you'll have to do better than that, Professor. Those have both been headline stories in every news rag from here to Paris."

The Professor's dark eyes drew narrowly. "They what?"

Hermione slung another easily deflected revealing spell in his direction, "tell me something only you would know about yourself. Something you would have written in your private journals."

"And why, Miss Granger, would I tell you such a thing or expect that to mean anything to you?"

"If you expect to prove to me your identity, it's the only way I'll believe you."

He started to respond, but she interrupted him -

"And if you are telling the truth, you'll need me. If you truly are from the past, and who you say that you are then, then you clearly don't know what year it is or what's occurred."

There was validity in her words, and he sighed. His hand disappeared into his pocket. "There is a page torn from my Potions journal. This missing page occurs after a series of pages about failed time travel potions and my experiences with them. It's in the 1996 journal."

Her eyes lit with the same brightness as when she knew the answer in class. "Don't move." She swung through the door to the office. A few seconds later, she returned with his 1996 Potions journal in her hand.

His eyes raked over his private Potions work in her hand. He watched as she scanned through what seemed to be familiar pages. He couldn't help but to notice that the journal was full after the missing page. "Do you believe me now, Miss Granger?"

Her wand had been put away, and she walked nearer to him than he cared for. Without warning she reached up and touched his cheek gingerly. He flinched out of her reach.

"I'm sorry." She pulled her hand to herself, "I just cannot believe it's really you. I have so many things to ask you, to tell you, to show you." She stared at him. "But- oh, forgive me, there must be some things you want to know….I'm not sure what I ought to say, though, with time being as fickle and what not"

Her words lingered as if she was allowing him to decide what it was he should know, "When is it?"

"It's July 2010. I don't know for sure the day. I lose track in here sometimes when school isn't in." She shrugged.

He stepped back and sat at the potions table. 2010. "14 years."

"So that makes you from 1996, then. Makes sense with the page torn out."

He could see she was lost in her own thoughts. Her mind was working in that calculated Granger way. "Have you met with Narcissa and Bellatrix at the hou- at Spinner's End, already?"

His head snapped quickly in her direction. For him this meeting was only days old, and it was protected by an Unbreakable Vow, and yet, Hermione Granger clearly knew the intimate details of this visit. He met her eyes, and he began to see the weather of age. She was not the teenage girl that he had seen in his classroom a few months before.

"How did you come to be in possession of my journals? And why are you here," his hands swept around to indicate the room, "in my private lab."

She snorted a laugh, "How much should I tell you? I don't want to ruin time by sending you back with information of the future."

He thought for a moment, "I don't believe that the potion will work that way. If my calculations are correct, I am a more or less a copy sent forward through time." He paused, "I cannot say for certain, but if anything, I believe the potion will crumble in my molecules, and I will dissolve into nothing."

Hermione's brow furrowed, "May I look at the instructions of the potion? I am assuming that the torn page is there in your pocket."

His hand tightened on the paper, and he seemed reluctant. "How do you expect to understand the complexities of a potion like this? And why would I trust you with that kind of information?"

Hermione sighed, "I am a Potions Master, myself, and am currently the Deputy Headmistress of the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I believe that qualifies me to look with some level of both expertise and trustworthiness." Her arms crossed, and she stood in a way that reminded him so much of Minerva he had to hold back a laugh.

When he didn't move she added with clear frustration, "Severus Snape, I hold so many of your damn secrets in my head, show me your idiotic potion recipe so that I can see what we need to do!"

"You've clearly grown less afraid of me with age." He pulled the torn page out of his pocket and laid it on the workspace in front of him.

Her eyes drank it in. She immediately summoned parchment and a quill. She began to write complex arithmancy equations. He watched her intensely. She paused every few minutes to ask him some clarifying question like, which direction did he stir, and what was the cauldron made of. When her quill finally stopped its hurried pace, she looked at him and said, "We'll need to test your blood."

He nodded his head, "I am aware. How long did your calculations give me?"

"Six months? A year at best? But I would say that largely depends on the freshness of your mandrake. Do you agree?"

He nodded his head. He drew in a breath and asked, "I don't believe that anything I learn in my current state will impact the past. Would you agree with that?"

Hermione revisited the papers in front of her. She reread, and quickly, she recalculated a few equations. "I couldn't say with absolute certainty, but I do believe that you are correct in that assumption."

Severus Snape stood to his full height, "Then, I must ask, Miss Granger, how did I die?"

 _AN: Thanks for reading! Leave some love and review if you are interested in more of this story :)_


	2. Labels and Such

_AN: Thank you all, darlings, for such a welcome response to the first chapter. I expect this to be a slow build fic, and I am aiming for weekly updates. I greatly appreciate all the follows, favorites, and of course, reviews._

 **The Professor's Widow**

 **Chapter Two**

 _Labels and Such_

Severus Snape stood to his full height, "Then, I must ask, Miss Granger, how did I die?"

His question was met with a long pause of silence and stillness. Her expression was unreadable to him.

She moved deliberately back to her papers and reviewed her calculations again and again. It just wasn't right to tell a man of his death; she had to be certain that there would be no impact on the timeline.

Minerva's words from long ago still rang in her head warning her about the consequences of damaging time.

Snape was quiet while she worked. Taking the time to more thoroughly inspect the changes to the lab and to her person. Hermione Granger looked the same but older. The faint lines of time beginning to form around her eyes. The lab seemed cleaner and the cauldrons newer, but otherwise, it, too, was mostly the same.

At long last, the quill finally rested as Hermione set it on the table. The evidence continued to confirm: this Severus was a copy, and as such, he had no timeline to destroy. With purpose in her voice she said, "Come on." She pushed past and waved him into the familiar office. He followed silently.

While the lab seemed on the whole unchanged, his office was almost unrecognizable. The room was bright with the walls a glowing and iridescent white. Gone were the shelves of vials and specimen containers. Replaced instead with framed copies of the Daily Prophet, the Magical World Report, and other publications. His eyes soaked in the headlines faster than his mind could process: awards, a Foundation, a number of potions articles, but one stood out amongst the rest -

 **Severus Snape Posthumously Awarded the Order of Merlin**

With a small, sputtering of a non- sound escaping his lips, he stepped closer to the wall to read the story accompanying the headline.

He had died a hero.

The details of his death weren't too in depth, but enough to paint the picture in broad strokes. It read vaguely enough that he didn't know the gritty details, but he knew he would die at the Battle of Hogwarts, confirmed as an member of the Order, and in part, responsible for bringing down the Dark Lord. He had to sit.

He fell awkwardly with none of his usual grace into an armchair. He had a million questions, but none of them seemed to matter in that moment. The world would know or already did know that he wasn't just the evil man he pretended to be.

She was watching him with great interest.

Quickly getting back to himself, he snarled, "Miss Granger, you are staring."

Her face was warm with the nostalgia of his voice. She rolled her eyes, "yes, it's not everyday a dead man strolls into my office."

His face drew up into a scowl. "You know, the you in 1996 would never roll her eyes at a professor."

She laughed mirthfully, " _you_ haven't been my professor in well over a decade. As it stands, I am the one who, now, scares children on a daily basis, and the press quite frequently refers to me as your widow. I do think I've quite earned my right to roll my eyes at you, Severus."

He shook his head confused, "they call you what? My widow? Why? We didn't? In the future?" His words came quickly and not fully formed.

Her cheeks pinkened, "oh no- Gods no! I was just what, 19, when you died? No, no, I'm not actually your widow. You'd have never done such a thing." She gutted to explain, "It's just the silly moniker they gave me after Ron spouted off in the press when I broke off our engagement."

"Why would he have called you that? Did you harbor some silly schoolgirl crush?"

"On you? Of course not!" Her eyes rolled once more, and she laughed as he grimaced. "After the war ended, I became a little, er, well, obsessed. I had always been the one to urge the boys to trust you, so once it was out that you were in fact the man that I had been telling them all along… I just felt so vindicated. Headmistress McGonagall asked me to help her go through your belongings, knowing she could trust me to respect your memory. Eventually, I took to living at Spinner's End, and she gave me the house. I don't know - it's all just happened over many, many years."

Hermione paused and sighed, "Ron didn't understand why I spent so much of my life working through the wards on your journals, learning your spells, brewing your potions… He said it was like I was always mourning you, that you would always be the man in my life instead of him. He threw a fit when I said it was over; told reporters that he couldn't marry a woman who was already married to a dead man. And voila - Hermione Granger: The Professor's Widow."

An undignified noise came from Snape.

Hermione didn't comment on it; instead, she asked, "well, you're a man with a second chance in a world where you finally have no master. What are you planning to do with this time?"

He paused unsure how to answer the question. He'd never actually thought he would get the potion right to launch a copy of himself forward in time. What _was_ he going to do? Did he really have a plan now that the world was safe?

The safety of sarcasm laced his response, "I may no longer have a Master, Miss Granger, but it also sounds as though I no longer have a home."

Hermione's thoughts returned to Home, and she stood abruptly, "we have to go to Spinner's End, right now. I haven't been able to figure the damn spell out for the last decade, and I'm not going to let you dissolve away in time without making you tell me the secret!"

The smirk on the face of Severus Snape indicated that he had a good idea of just what spell she was talking about.


	3. Hush, Mirror

_AN: Again, I cannot thank you all enough for continuing to follow, favorite, and review! I still anticipate a slow build and am aiming to update weekly. This chapter has a little bit more action, and a nod at the beginning of SSHG. Thanks for your support in this endeavor. It's been a long time since I have written anything, and I feel like I am getting back into the swing of it all._

 **The Professor's Widow**

 **Chapter Three**

 _Hush Mirror_

Deputy Headmistress and Potions Professor, Hermione Granger was rather unflappable. Dozens of miscreant teenagers had been through her dungeon classroom in the last how-many-ever years, and despite their attempts at blowing the castle up, Professor Granger never seemed to break a sweat.

But now, hand in the basket of floo powder, she couldn't seem to get a handle on the emotions coursing through her body. Severus Snape was dead, and yet, he was there beside her very much alive. Her eyes narrowed at the smirk that hadn't left his face. "Are you coming? Or do you have somewhere else to be?"

He nodded, but added no words.

"Spinner's End!" she exclaimed.

She swiftly moved from the Floo, so that Snape could come after her. When he didn't arrive immediately, she held her breath. _Was that it? Would he Floo somewhere else? Did she really just leave the man that she had spent her entire adult life devoted to preserving alone?_

Her panic level began to rise, but before she could find herself carried away, the man clad in black appeared in the fireplace.

Breathe came back to her in a ragged gasp.

She started to remark, but as he stepped into the room, his eyes began to devour the house. His steps were big and purposeful as he strode around a house that he could barely recognize.

The bones, the framework of the house, the floorplan maybe were somewhat the same, and yet, so much was different than the place that he had sat with Narcissa and Bellatrix only days ago. It smelled clean. The place was bright. He couldn't tell if those changes were making the place seem bigger or if there actually were some builder grade extendable charms in place. He left Miss Granger and wandered into the kitchen. It didn't even dawn on him that it might feel intrusive for him to be strolling around her private home.

As his eyes drank in the multitude of changes, the remodeling, the renovations, he began slowly to see the nods to preservation. Here are there were little homages to him and what the place had once been. Nothing overt mind you, and a man who wasn't a spy trained to notice all the things would have likely missed them, but there amongst a gallery wall in the hallway was a picture of the house as had once been. His handmade small spice rack had been rehung on the cabinet, and the bottles labeled in his spiky scrawl were there refilled and fresh.

Finally, his inspection of the public areas of the house was completed, and he found Miss Granger sitting at the bottom step to the staircase.

"It must be so strange," was all she said.

He nodded, "It's different."

"Cleaner," she supplied.

"I'm surprised you took the time and energy to -," he waved his hand to indicate all the changes. "I would have just torn this place down after the war…" he looked at her, "if I had lived."

Hermione shrugged her shoulders, "I can see that, wasn't a place filled with the best memories for you."

He bristled at the notion of her knowing the things that had taken place in the house.

"I'm sorry, that must be odd, too. For me to know everything about you and all of your secrets. You were, well, are such private man."

"If you know all the things that happened here, why did you keep it?"

She paused, thinking for a moment, "I don't know that I have an answer for that." She pointed upstairs, "But anyways, you know plumbing charms are outrageously expensive, so I haven't added a new bathroom or blasted this one apart, so I have dealt with this mirrored nuisance for far too long. Come undo this ridiculous spell."

He didn't know if she was purposely trying to avoid the more serious topics with him, but he was grateful for the change of topic to something lighter. The spell that concerned her was of his own design. He'd done it to prevent the wormy Peter Pettigrew from using his bathroom, but the thought of it impacting Hermione Granger made him chuckle - silently and under his breath, of course.

Unsurprisingly the master bedroom was again changed in terms of color, decor, and cleanliness, but as they entered the bathroom, he found the room to look nearly the same as he had left it in 1996. The mirror, held to the wall with a Permanent Sticking Charm, had a rather un-Snape-like spell cast upon it.

"Please do something about him," she pointed, and there in the mirror was Severus Snape.

It wasn't as sophisticated of a spell as those found in portraits, nor was it as simple as a normal magical mirror reflection. As he looked into the mirror, there were in fact, two, Snapes: his own reflection and the charmed mirror Snape.

"Well, it's 'bout damn time that you showed up again," the mirror Snape snapped.

"Yes, well, I've been dead apparently," the real Snape retorted.

Hermione chimed in, "Pipe down, Severus! He's going to finally blast you from the stupid glass! For once and for all! " She yelled pointedly at the mirror Snape.

The real Snape's eyes widened at her casual use of his name in such a way.

She added, "you know, I used think he might be somewhat sentient. That he could be useful, but I realized very quickly that was not the case."

Her comfortability with him and the fact that she already knew his whole life story made it easier to confess why he'd created such a stupid charm. "I only did it to keep Pettigrew out of this bathroom."

The laugh that erupted from her mouth was spontaneous and a little crazed. "That stupid rat. Even after his death, he still managed to make life irksome for people. I have dealt with a decade of that lecherous mirror you all because of that slimeball." It seemed easy for her to laugh it all off as a silly joke.

"Lecherous?" his right eyebrow inched higher as he asked.

The blush on her cheeks was evident. "I will _not_ repeat the things that he has said to me."

"Oh, but I don't mind telling him at all, darling," the mirror Snape added with an inappropriate command of that silky tone of Severus's voice. "I could even tell him about those _special times_." His eyebrows waggling up and down in a way that the real Snape's never would.

Her already red face darkened, and she drew her wand. A spell flew through and into the glass; it didn't quite permeate the glass completely, but the magic dissolved nonetheless. The mirror Snape was frozen in place, blinking, but no longer able to speak.

The real Snape looked at her quizzically.

"It's temporary, but at least he will shut up. Can you remove it, him? Please!" her voice was pleading.

He stepped closer to her. Her heartbeat was clanging in her ears.

"What did he mean Miss Granger? About those _special times_ ," his voice was smooth, and her face was boiling. She trembled slightly but raised her eyes to meet his anyways. She wasn't a scared teenager anymore; she was a thirty-one year old grown woman.

Exasperated and embarrassed, she spat sarcastically, "I'm sure you have a damn good idea of what he meant Severus," she took in a deep breath. "But, now, if you'll kindly remove that bloody menace from my mirror, I'm certain that there are a great many other things that you would be much more interested in seeing."

The expression on his face was not one that she recognized. While she knew everything about him in theory, this whole having him alive in practice was completely foreign.

He withdrew his wand and nodded, choosing to let her off the hook (at least for now), "I will deal with this," he gestured towards the mirror. "Will you fix a cup of tea? I will come find you in the kitchen when I am done."

Hermione refused to dwell on the awkwardness of what had just transpired. The whole afternoon was a mish-mash of disbelief. He'd asked her if she'd had a crush on him, and she'd laughed. He was always the professor; it had never crossed the line for her in school. Her response was genuine.

But now alone in her home, sitting pensively at the dining room table, she began to think. By the time she'd grown used to his wit in the written word and began to wonder what it would have been like to be one the lovers he documented in his most private and secured journals, he had been long dead. You couldn't have a crush on a dead man, right?

 _Idle hands are the devil's plaything_. Her mother's words rang in her ears.

With a swish, she summoned parchment and a quill. Too many thoughts had risen to the surface of her brain, and she couldn't adequately begin to sort through them. She set about to making a list.

 _Tell Minerva?_

 _Tell Minister?_

 _Tell No One?_

She skipped a line and continued.

 _Repercussions for the Foundation?_

 _Time limit?_

 _The book?_

Before she could begin again, heavy steps echoed down the staircase. Snape picked up the cup on the counter and walked to join her at the table. As he did, he removed his outer robes and placed them across the back of the chair.

He eyed the parchment in front of her but met her eyes seeking permission to read. She slid her list across to him. His eyes scanned her musings briefly.

"The first part I understand. The second leaves me with questions."

Hermione replied, "I think we should determine the first part before I get into the rest with you. Are you intending to share your," she paused uncertain how to describe it, "your return with others? Minerva? Or the Minister?"

It took a long time for him to reply. A single minute passed in silence can linger on, but this was nearly five minutes with no words spoken.

Finally, he answered, "I think it best, for now, that this remain our little secret, and seeing as you already have so many of mine, I believe I can trust you to silence a while longer?"

She nodded.

He added, "now, tell me what the rest of this list means."


	4. Nightmare

_AN: Thank you to duj, FrancineHibiscus, smithbak, lia. , zedoc, Nachtwens, villafoo, and quincybones for taking the time to review. I appreciate you all reading, following, favoriting, and reviewing._

 **The Professor's Widow**

 **Chapter Four**

 _Nightmare_

She dashed quickly into the guest room; her robe hanging loosely from her shoulders. "Professor. Professor," concern etched into her voice. She shook him, "Severus, wake up. You're having a nightmare."

He sat up taking in his surroundings. It had been many years since he'd slept unaided by a Dreamless Sleep potion. His head remained cloudy filled with a terrible montage of his death. Men should not know their fates. Caesar may have proclaimed that the brave only die the once, but then, of course, he didn't return from the dead to learn about his own demise.

It was unnerving to be stared at my such big, brown eyes. He, also, couldn't recall the last time a human had woken him. House elves, yes. Wards blaring, yes. But a human, no. It must have been years. Her touch was foreign and gentle.

His conscious mind hadn't caught up with itself. His voice was rough as he asked, "Where am I? When am I?"

Hermione's reply came swiftly, "We are at Spinner's End, specifically the guest bedroom. Your room as a child. The year is 2010. The war is over. Voldemort is dead." She reiterated what she deemed the most essential information, or just it was perhaps she would have desired to be told if the roles were reversed.

His fingers absentmindedly stroked his forearm.

She watched him cautiously, "Can I make you some tea? A vial of Dreamless Sleep, perhaps?"

He should have never been too proud to ask for the potion in the first place. Miss Granger knew all of his secrets, all of his kinks. She likely knew him better than he knew himself; actually, it was quite unnerving. However, all of that aside, he should have just asked for the potion. Pride goeth before the fall and all that drivel.

Their earlier dining room conversation had a lengthy one filled with lots more information than Snape could absorb, and his head was pounding by the time he had found his way into the guest bedroom.

She'd begun by explaining about "The Severus Snape Foundation". A nonprofit group that supported all magical students in bridging the education gaps before the age of eleven. Muggleborns were beginning to be contacted much earlier about magic thanks to the hard work of the foundation, and magically born students were exposed to the muggle world at a young age. Proceeds from potions that he had created (and Hermione had patented) helped to fund classes, summer camps, and programs. The Foundation also had a division focused on the humane treatment of all magical creatures and people.

It was during this portion of conversation that he had learned how Hermione had been a huge advocate for the Malfoy family. His godson was, now (and had been for many years), both the face and the chair of the Foundation. It had been clear to Snape as he listened that this was because she had no desire to have that type of spotlight, and Draco was, after all, such a charmer.

Throughout the passage of hours and the setting of the sun, the conversation had been derailed along the way with various rabbit trails and inquiries that landed them far off topic many times. It was in one of these "rabbit trail" moments that he had the realization of just how much she really did know of his life.

" _You should have seen Narcissa's face the time I asked her for a vial of blood. Horrified like a proper Pureblood woman should be anyways, but then, when she came to know what I wanted it for... " Hermione chuckled as she trailed off, "She thanked me more than once for not asking in front of Lucius. I thought she was going to make me take an oath or a Vow. She started to try to explain that it - Imagine Narcissa Malfoy stuttering over words." In a mock posh voice, Hermione imitated, "it was just the once. Just the one and only time." She was nearly giggling - until she saw the expression creasing his face._

" _Er - sorry, it's hard to remember you're here, not dead, and actually here." She quickly added, "And I know, it was before she and Lucius were married. And before Draco was even a thought. I wasn't trying to make a commentary on your, um," she floundered for a word, and settled on "choices."_

Yes, Hermione Granger apparently knew all of the most intimate moments of his life; yet, he couldn't just disarm himself. And as such, he stupidly refused to ask for the potion he so desperately needed. So now, in the wee morning hours, she was staring at him with big dewy eyes and a gauzy dressing gown slipping from her shoulders, offering to make him tea.

He sat in the living room on a very plush couch that much better suited the room than the one he'd had before nursing a warm cup. As he waited for her to return with the potion, he determined that the house had most definitely been magically enlarged. Though, unlike the Burrow, Hermione must have paid quite handsomely for the sophisticated charm-work because it was flawless and only noticeable to him because it had been his home for three plus decades.

As she approached the room, he saw her in the moonlight. Her pajama pants were made of loose linen and the navy tank top was mostly hidden by the outer thin robe that was now firmly in place. She made almost no sound as her barefoot feet seemed to glide across the floor.

"I'll show you where these are in the morning, so that you can help yourself." She handed him a vial.

Even in the dim lighting, he could see the color was slightly off, but before he could remark -

"Don't start with me about the color. This is an improved formula that has made me quite a bit of money. It's a better quality than what we had in the nineties."

He could almost feel her desire to argue about the potion with him. "It's bluer." He held the vial up, "and shinier. You've done something with the crystallized flutterwings."

He could see her grin, "it's amazing how half a dozen potions companies came knocking at my door for the recipe on that before I could finish the papers, and yet, you glance at it for all of two seconds, basically in the dark, and know the answer."

"Other people are stupid."

She snorted, "I'm going to take that as a compliment from you."

"What other potions have you modified?"

"Loads, and you and I both know we could sit here for hours discussing them. However, I have a meeting tomorrow, and I will need to stay awake through its duration. Therefore, I must go to bed, and I encourage you to do the same."

 _AN: Sorry, it's late this week... and a bit short. I am getting my Masters, and this week's homework was a doozy! More coming soon. Thanks for your reviews and love!_


	5. Stacks to Read

_AN: Another chapter! :) Thanks_ _lia. , villafoo, smithback, duj, and Rhodabush for your continued support. (And to duj for the typo catch! Extra thanks!) I am getting my Masters in Educational Technology Leadership. I am a high school teacher and want to move upwards in the school system. I've had a plot bunny distract me and beg to be written, so I will also be posting a chapter for a new HGDM story this week. Thanks again for your reads, follows, favorites, and reviews!_

 **The Professor's Widow**

 **Chapter Five**

 _Stacks to Read_

Hermione Granger left the house well before the sun came up in the wee hours of the morning. She didn't want to have another confrontation with the undead (and not a zombie) Severus Snape in her house. It was an unprecedented situation, and there was nothing to read about what to do or think or feel. Her head was a mish-mash of questions and unknowns. The traditional research-based coping mechanisms were impossible on this one.

She'd left him a note and some reading on the counter, but now that she was gone from the house, she was second-guessing her choices. In the darkness, it had seemed like a good decision to give him the same advantage she had, and she didn't even know what he would pick. She had left him what would arguably be a tough choice.

The sun was already in the sky when Severus found the note on the kitchen counter. It was accompanied by three different stacks of book-like items. The first stack he recognized as his journals. He had always purchased the exact same journal each year. His own scrawl on the spine labeled them as the years 1996, 1997, and 1998. These were the last bits of his life that he had yet to live written in his own hand. The compulsion to know what the pages held almost made him not want to even look at the next two stacks. He reached out to feel the pages. He pulled the 1998 journal from his place at the bottom, and it fell open on a heavily creased page. It was the last entry and about halfway through the journal. The last entry he had ever written. He wanted to read it, but at the same time, he couldn't bear it.

He placed the journal back in its stack and moved to the middle stack on the counter. It was just one item unlike the other two stacks. It was bound, but not the way a published book or a journal would be. As he picked it up, he could see that it was some kind of mock up. There was a yellow, square of paper attached to the front. The note said, "Hermione, here's your publishing sample for review." He flapped the note up and read the title. _Professor: The Life of Severus Snape_

It was a biography of him. His life laid out for people to read. He knew without having to read who the author was, but there it was on the front "By Hermione Granger." He rolled his eyes.

The last stack was filled with different sizes and styles of parchment and journals. He reached for the top diary-like book and flipped it open.

 _December 13, 2009_

 _I absolutely refuse to go to the Burrow for Christmas this year. Harry and Ginny don't understand. They still think I care that Ron married Lavender. They think I care about the half dozen strawberry blonde brats, but I don't. I don't care about any of it. I just want some intelligent conversation…_

Hermione Granger's personal diaries laid in a tower in front of him. He revisited the initial note that she'd left on the counter for him.

 _SS-_

 _Since, I know all of your things, it seems only fair. I'll be late._

 _HG_

He looked at the piles before him; he didn't know what to reach for. In one hand, he could read, in his own hand, the life that he'd led. He could read the book that looked nearly ready for publication; he wondered what sob story she'd sewn of his life. Or he could possess the secrets of Hermione Granger and even the playing field.

Hermione fretted as to what Snape had chosen. Would she return home in the evening to find him there at all?

Her meeting was with her publisher, Henri Fischer. She'd had to arrive at the ministry and take an international portkey across to the continent. They were meeting in magical Frankfurt to go through the final proofs of the book before setting the book tour dates. Mr. Fischer had the editor's notes and the thoughts from first-read candidates. This biography would be automatically be a best-seller because it was the only one of its kind, and Hermione was the only one with access to the information that she had. But neither Hermione nor Mr. Fischer wanted to rely on that alone. They wanted the book to be the best version of itself.

Hermione was now waiting on a plush striped sofa to be called back, and she was biting her lip. She was torn about what her next steps should be; could she even think of an excuse to delay the publishing? Access to a real life Severus would undoubtedly change some of the stories in her book. He would have answers for the unanswered questions. Of course that was supposing he would answer those questions.

And was it wrong to publish this book, now that he was alive - even if that was temporarily. Her mind sucked itself into the vortex that she'd been avoiding solidly since completing the calculations in the lab. Severus Snape only had six months to a year to exist as this copy. Was there a way to alter his cell structures so that he would not dissolve away into time and space?

Henri's secretary broke her mind from its dark place. "Mizz Granger."

She followed the clacking heels down the hallway and tried hard to focus fully on the meeting at hand as if nothing were amiss.

His right foot was tingling with the sensation of being asleep because he had been sitting in the awkward hinged position for nearly two hours. He had decided that a choice simply could not be made, and he'd make two trips to bring all of the items from the counter into the living room. He had been switching between the three. Reading three entries of his own, one chapter from the biography, and three entries of Hermione's. (And although, she had left him her entire life's supply of diaries, he'd chosen to begin at the same time as his own in 1996.)

Hermione Granger's 1996 journal had a juvenile innocence that felt right for the girl he had in his head. This was the Hermione Granger he was used to. She complained about Harry's obsession with Draco and prattled on about her uncertainties about Ron romantically. Her secrets were for the most part what one would expect of a seventeen year old.

He only had a sense of time when his stomach let out an enormous growl, and he had to take a break to fix a sandwich. Even eating didn't stop him, he carried the plate back into the living room and resumed his study. As he continued, he realized he'd stopped reading the biography early. He was only three chapters in, but he had been skipping it in his go betweens. He guessed he would come back to it.

Snape was more interested and had begun side-by-siding the days in 1996 then into 1997. First he would read his own version of the day, then hers. Sometimes he appeared in her pages, during her sixth year, and he found that she actually made many entries in his own as 1997 progressed.

Seeking out a drink, he dug through the kitchen pantry. A glass of firewhiskey in hand, he continued his assault on the texts. Hours and hours had dissolved away. Dark filled the room, but he couldn't rest his weary eyes.

He had moved into 1998 and found the tales of Hermione's torture by Bellatrix in the Malfoy Manor. The story had been secondhand relayed by Narcissa to him, and Hermione documented her own anguish. Her version was vulnerable in a way that made him uncomfortable.

He paused realizing he was nearing the end of his own story. It was then that Hermione returned through the floo.


	6. Scars

_AN: I am so delighted to see so many of you guys sticking around for this slow build. I personally struggle with fics that jump right into the middle which is probably why I have paced this so slowly, and of course, we are still barely at the Snape being alive a full day timeline._

 _Thank you to IrisDawnDancer for reading and reviewing every chapter :) Thanks to Violet97mc, rlsa, drastications, Lucyole, and LFA for the reads and reviews. And to my OGs RhodaBush, smithback, lia. , villafoo, and duj for the continued love and support!_

 **The Professor's Widow**

 **Chapter Six**

 _Scars_

Hermione Granger stepped out of the floo into her living room at Spinner's End. It had been a long day of travel and work. As she had taken the international portkey back to the Ministry of Magic in London, she couldn't help but wonder what she was going to come home to find. Would Professor Snape still be there at all? She kept fearing that he would take off and that she would never find out the answers to all her questions.

Her stomach had twisted itself into knots. It had been years since she cared what anyone thought of her or her actions. She answered to no one but herself.

During her journey home, her hair had doubled its volume in the humid English air. She looked as frazzled as she felt at this point. She took one step into the living room and eyeballed the diary in the hand of Professor Snape. The room was more chaotic than she had seen it in years. There was a plate barely holding its ground on the arm of the sofa and a nearly empty glass of Firewhiskey next to an actually empty bottle. The once neatly stacked books were scattered around the room in various positions of opened and closed.

As she took in the room, their eyes finally met - "Hello Professor."

"Miss Granger."

She shifted uncomfortably on her feet. The comfort spell on the high heels she'd been in all day needed refreshing, but she didn't have the energy to do it. Instead, she kicked them off into the corner of the room.

"Well, I guess I don't actually know what to say." She said exhausted.

A snort came from Snape. "That's got to be a first: the one and only Hermione Granger without words." His normal demeanor had lost its sharpness thanks to the alcohol. With the noticeable slur in his words, he saw her eyeing the empty bottle. "Did you know that this is the first time since the Dark Lord returned that I have been drunk?" He picked up the glass and swallowed down the last bits of amber liquid. "I don't know how you would know it - I don't think I ever wrote that down."

She couldn't quite discern if that was a dig at her or not. "Did you spend the whole day with these?" Her arms waved towards the variety of texts that were scattered about.

He nodded.

"Which stack did you pick?" It had been her burning question all day.

His eyes flashed in a way that reminded her a bit of Dumbledore with his manipulative twinkle. "All of them. I picked them all."

It was not exactly the way she'd pictured it, but as she thought it through it made sense. Why had she assumed that he would pick one stack? She wouldn't have. "How did you tackle them?"

Even slightly intoxicated, Severus Snape was an articulate man. "I skipped your formative years. I cross-aligned our yearly journals and began in yours with where I left off in 1996. I just went back and forth. I've managed to make it almost two years into my own future through both of our versions." He pointed to her manuscript sample of the biography, "That I just couldn't read."

She looked taken aback. Afterall, she'd just spent the entire day revising, editing, and planning a book tour for that biography. "Why? Is it that horrible? Or wrong? I have researched your youth carefully so that I didn't make mistakes. Your journals don't start until Hogwarts."

"I already know what happens in the past." He said it plainly with no hints of emotion, "I want to know what happens in the future. Well, your past and my future, my other self's future, blast it," his hands were gesturing, "you know what I mean."

She nodded and walked out of the room. It seemed abrupt for her to depart. He didn't think that he had offended her, this time. However, she wasn't gone from the darkened living room for very long at all. When Hermione returned, she had a full bottle of firewhiskey and another glass.

Sitting in the armchair across from him, she poured herself a drink. "So, you've spent all day learning about your future and my past. How far did you get? Any questions?"

Slowly he pulled himself to his feet, the journal that was resting on his leg placed gingerly on the table nearest to him. He approached her chair.

His figure loomed over her.

She tried to sit stalk still under his gaze.

Without words, he reached for her arm. He lifted it and tugged up the sleeve. Hermione remained silent as his fingers traced the letters upon her arm. His eyes met hers, and this time he asked, "May I?" as he pointed towards the collar of her robes. She nodded.

He pulled the neck of her robes to the slide and traced over the slitted scar low on her neck that jutted out towards her collar bone. His hands fell away from her skin awkwardly. His hands on her body had not felt like a clinical observation of a professor inspecting a hurt student. It had seemed to be something more personal, and Severus Snape didn't do personal - drunk or otherwise.

Snape stood tall and stepped away from her armchair.

Hermione adjusted her collar and sleeve to recover her scars. No amount of magic it seemed would rid her of them, and after wasting nearly a years time pursuing it, she'd given up on the attempt. She may no longer care what people thought of her, but she was still self-conscious of the raised-lettered "mudblood" scar. No matter how famous or wealthy she'd become that scar always managed to make her feel she never felt like she was exactly enough in this magical world.

In fact, she could recall a fight that she and Ron had at the first Victory Day Celebration the year after the war had ended. It was supposed to be a joy-filled day, and despite the twinge of somberness at those lost, the celebration was robust with completion of the Hogwarts rebuilding and the Ministry realignment.

" _It's so warm in here." A drip of sweat beaded on her brow._

" _Cast a cooling charm." Ron had said annoyed._

" _You know that interacts with the potion I am taking."_

 _His eyes rolled, "Then you shouldn't have worn a long sleeved dress in the middle of summer. I told you to wear the gold one anyways."_

 _Hermione's eyes eyed the scar beneath the sleeve. Ron watched her and huffed._

" _Hermione, I am not doing this again. Your scars don't define you. You have been spending too much time in these dungeons and not enough time in the sun." He'd spun on his heels and left her to wallow alone with her own demons and insecurities. Being a brilliant and powerful witch didn't somehow absolve one of all self-doubts._

Snape's tone was low and barely audible, "I am sorry."

Hermione felt her mouth drop in shock, "Why are you apologizing to me? You didn't do this."

"And I clearly didn't stop it either."

"You weren't even there. You've read your own accounting of the day, yes?"

He nodded. "Miss Granger, I may be an unpleasant man, but it was still my responsibility to protect you all. I failed."

Hermione breathed deeply, "Severus Snape, you are one of the bravest men I know. You died to being a hero. You died protecting all of us. You died doing what no one else could or would do. You sacrificed your whole life." She sighed.

He sat down silently.

The pause in the room was tense. Neither one knowing how to alleviate the heavy tension in the air.

Hermione finally broke the quiet. "Do you want to talk about potions? I have been working a variant of Wolfsbane off and on for about six years, and I have to mix the aconite fluid with salamander blood tonight to make a paste."

At the welcome change of conversation, his expression drew into a sneer, "If you're really such a brilliant Potions Master, you would know that making those two into a _paste,_ as you say, will lower their active properties by over half."

She rolled her eyes, "Yes, sir, I do know that. I need them at half strength to ideally allow a werewolf to stay human throughout the lunar cycle."

He paused musing and stood. "It would be better to mix them to a roux."

She rose, and they began heading towards the lab, "I did try a roux when I was using newt's blood…

Their conversation drifted off into the world of potions, ingredients, formulas and the like - leaving all sentimentality, apologies, and agonizing in the darkened and disordered living room.

 _AN: Like I said at the top, thanks for sticking with me in the slow build stage. I am ready to get some action and some chaos happening as we move forward. Time to let someone else in on this secret… coming up in Chapter 7! Who do you guys want to find out that Snape is back from the past? Let me know in your reviews._


	7. In on the Secret

_AN: Oh my lovelies! So much life has happened since my last update. I have taken my kiddos on vacation, completed the last assignment of my master's degree (in education - I'm a teacher in real life), gotten sick, taken care of two sick kiddos, celebrated fourth of July… sheesh I'm tired. Thanks for the fantastic responses, so many of you were on the money with your reveal guess. Special thanks to these wonderful humans for your reviews. Your words bring joy to my heart: lia. , Rlsa, FrancineHibiscus, Zedoc, joachimlw, xfildchild, RhodaBush, villafoo, Nachtwens, SereniteRose, LFA, smithback, Calindy, and SarahF._

 **The Professor's Widow**

 **Chapter Seven**

 _In on the Secret_

"Hermione?" A loud voice called out of the floo. "Hermione Granger?"

Hermione double-timed it down the stairs, taking two at once. Her hair was in a wild knot atop her head, and her dressing gown flapped behind her. The living room was bathed in sunlight, and the mess from the night before seemed even more haphazard than it had in the dim lights of the night.

"Hermione?" The voice called again and the floo growing a darker shade.

"I'm here. I'm here, Minerva." Hermione rushing in.

"Oh Merlin, I was going to have to come through in another minute. I thought you'd gotten caught up in another potions experiment and lost sense of time again." Minerva's glowing face laughed, "like that year, I had to come find you after the Easter Hols?"

Before she could reply, another voice pierced the air, and Hermione froze.

"Miss Granger? What is all that ruckus?"

"Oh my-" her glowing brows raised. "Is that a man? A different reason for losing sense of time then, I won't keep you."

"Yes, yes, I'm fine, Minerva, I will floo to the castle in a couple hours." Hermione spoke quickly trying to hurry the woman from the flames, but it wasn't fast enough.

"Miss Granger, are you quite all right?" The cadence and smooth tones of Severus Snape were quite distinct, as he entered the living room.

His eyes met those in the flames, "bloody hell."

In an instant, the flames grew bright and the face disappeared, only to be replaced by the Headmistress herself walking out of the floo and into the disheveled living room.

"Hermione, what have you done?" She looked at Severus with an expression of pain. "Just what have you done." She gripped her wand firmly, ready to use it at a moments notice.

"Minerva, I don't know what you're thinking, but I assure you it isn't anything that you might be."

Severus was taking in the woman before him. Time and responsibility had deepened the lines of worry and age in her face.

He opened his mouth to speak, but before he could Minerva was shrieking at Hermione.

"Do not lie to me. Did you disturb his grave?"

"No, Minerva."

"Is this polyjuice?"

"No."

Hermione started to try to explain, but McGonagall cut her off. "What dark magic have you done? I always told Ronald he was wrong. _She's not obsessed, I said. She's not crazy, I said._ Hermione if you've done something nefarious to Severus, oh, I just don't know that I can forgive you."

It was Snape that spoke up. "Minerva McGonagall, before you continue making an arse of yourself, why don't you close your mouth and use your ears - assuming they still work at your age."

Her hand moved in front of her wizened mouth.

He continued, "Hermione is not responsible for my presence. That would be me, and I don't believe I'd call the magic dark, but I can without a doubt say, I have done a many numbered nefarious things in my life."

There was no mistaking the terse tone of voice and the snarky drawl. It brought validity to his presence. She was in shock, "what? How?" She turned to Hermione, "is it - is this really Severus?"

Hermione nodded in the affirmative. "The one and only. Test him, if you're uncertain, but only with something prior to 1996." Minerva shot her a quizzical expression, and she replied, "we will explain after you're sure he is who he says he is and not some zombie or necromanced slave."

The older woman thought a moment, then she asked Snape, "what did I give you for Christmas your first year teaching?"

Hermione looked on, interested. Despite how much and how many details she knew about Snape's life, there were always little things that she could garner that were completely new to her.

A grim smirk darkened his face, "a pair of fangs."

Hermione gasped. "You gave him what?"

"The rumor that I was a vampire was in full force, so Minerva thought it would be quite fun to give me a set of fangs." He spoke without much inflection.

Ever the activist, Hermione turned to the Headmistress, "were they real vampire fangs?"

A small _tut_ sound escaped from the elder woman's lips, "they were different times, Hermione." Then she added, "don't give me that look."

"I get to give you any kind of look I want since you just accused me of digging up a dead man and spelling him so that I could have my way with him."

At this point Snape jumped in, "Minerva, has Hermione ever told you about the mirror in the master bathroom?"

Hermione's face flushed red, and she swatted Snape across the arm just as she would have Harry in her youth. "You hush."

The two comrades were looking warmly at one another. Hermione paused for a minute realizing they may need a moment. "I'm going to go put something more appropriate and fix us tea." She gestured at her flimsy nightclothes, and she watched as Snape's eyes raked across her, pausing almost-noticeably at her chest. She was braless and knew that she was likely revealing more than she intended through the light pink shirt. Leaving the room, she left her two former professors to catch up while she put herself together.

oooo

She was fully dressed in much more appropriate attire for a Potions Professor and walked down the staircase. Stepping towards the living room, she heard a piece of their conversation, "That damned man!"

There was something startling about the tone, and she tiptoed round the corner.

Her two former professors looked deeply absorbed, and Severus had his head down with his hands covering. McGonagall was wringing her hands like she wanted to console him but knew better than to touch him. "He forced you to do it, Severus."

Somewhat muffled, he said, "I read that, but I just, I cannot fathom having done the deed. _The Killing Curse, Minerva._ My soul, what must it have done to _my soul."_

Hermione crept backwards towards the kitchen. She did not have any need or want to break up the moment between the pair. Instead, she brewed tea and raided the cupboards for something to serve as a snack. While she brewed the muggle way, there was something delightful about twirling her wand so that the whole refreshment arrangement flew onto the serving tray and levitated itself into the living room.

Walking towards the den, she announced herself, so as to warn them if they were in the midst of seriousness.

"I fixed something to drink."

McGonagall's eyes smiled warmly, "Ah, there she is. We were just talking about you."

"You were?" Hermione's eyes danced between them.

Minerva laughed, "Oh yes, I was telling him about your speech to the first years' last fall."

Hermione's face grimaced. "That's not fair!" Her hand instinctively popped on her hip.

Snape scowled, "How is it that you tell me she strikes fear into the hearts of the youth, and yet, now, here she acts just as she did at sixteen."

Hermione stuck her tongue out at him, mockingly.

Snape gestured, "She proves my point."

Minerva urged, "Oh Hermione, don't be cross darling. Show Severus your speech. You know he will appreciate it."

"Fine, but I don't know that he will." Hermione acquiesced. She raised her pointer finger to indicate just one minute. She rose and pulled her heavy cloak from the coat rack near the door. Turning her back to the professors, she drew in a deep breath. As she turned, her chin lifted, and Snape watched as her whole demeanour shifted. A new persona rolled off of her in waves. With an aristocratic drawl, she spoke, "There will be no foolish wand-waving or silly incantations in this class…"

He sucked in a small gasp of air as he watched some Hermione Granger version of himself delivering a very near approximation of his own speech to first year students. When she had finished, he started to speak, but before he could, she was near to him.

"Excuse me Severus Snape, did I give you permission to speak in my classroom?"

The only thing that broke the moment, and Hermione's stoney character was Minerva's rich, mirthful laugh. She laughed and laughed, and eventually, Hermione joined in. Snape broke into a smile.

"You're a little thief, you know?" he asked, looking at Hermione. "My job, my house, my teaching persona."

Hermione sat down, pouring herself a glass of tea, "I spent so much time reading and studying everything to do with you. Don't be so shocked that I have absorbed some of the Snape-ness."

He rolled his eyes, "I will have to teach you the correct way to walk to be stealthy before," he paused, "before I leave." He went on, "I know a charm for the dragon hide. Works much better for sneaking up behind them."

McGonagall looked up, "Before you leave? Where are you going Severus?" Concern etched in her eyes.

Hermione's gaze danced between the two.

Snape looked at Hermione, but quickly cast his gaze down. He wasn't one to supply excuses.

Hermione spoke, "he has a limited time, Minerva. The potion he created will only give him six months to a year tops. He will fade away."

Minerva rushed from her seat to his side and picked up his hand, "no, no, that just cannot be." A look that both Hermione and Severus knew well etched into the creases of her face, "The two of you are brilliant Potions Masters. I demand that you find a way to make this cell copy, whatever potion, permanent."

Hermione looked up, "I, I just don't know that we realistically have the time to work up a solution, if it is even possible."

The Headmistress looked determined and frazzled, her age diminishing her energy. "I will not take no for answer. You _will_ figure it out."

oooo

Minerva had flooed back to the castle after Hermione had promised her that she would look into a cure for Severus's predicament; though, she didn't know if that was even what Severus desired. Hermione had also had to promised that she would be back at the castle by the afternoon for the summer Board of Governors meeting. There was some new drama with the plans for the next year's Victory Day Celebration. (Hermione could never understand why plans for the next one began as swiftly as one was over.) She assured Minerva that she would be in the Headmistresses office an hour early to discuss the details before the meeting.

Thus, now, Hermione and Severus sat awkwardly amidst the no longer haphazard living room. The rows of journals all magicked into the corner of the room. What had been easy conversations about Hermione pattenting his potions the night before was now heavy and uncertain.

She took in a few breath and couldn't decide exactly what to say. Finally, annoyed with herself, she exclaimed, albeit louder than intended, "Do you actually want to work on a way to make your life in this time permanent?"

He looked at her surprised, "I don't know. Do you think it's possible? I would hate to waste what time I've got on a fruitless endeavor."

Hermione realized in a very short period of time, she had managed to earn a least a bit of this stubborn man's respect for him to even be asking her. "It's worth exploring. Let's say we hypothesize about the options and spend, oh I don't know, the time until the school year begins? If we don't have a good working theory about how to even begin creating a solution, we reevaluate then?"

"Pragmatic as always, Miss Granger. It's a wonder that either of your male compatriots are functioning adults without your brain."

 _AN: And now, we have the beginnings of a plan for our pair, and it has been revealed to another person. What do you think my lovelies?_


	8. How Old?

_AN: 1. It was pointed out that I called you wonderful readers my lovelies last chapter… and that it's kind of creepy. I call my students my lovelies ALL the time. Do they think I am creepy? They might. Maybe I should stop :) I don't want to be a weirdo, haha 2. Y'all, this chapter did NOT want to be written. I felt like I was jumping hurdles, and I don't even really know why because it turned out to be the LONGEST chapter I have written so far! 3. I, so, appreciate the love and responses from each of you. Keep those fantastic REVIEWS coming :)_

 _Thank you to RhodaBush, Calindy, FrancineHibiscus, LFA, smithback, marzipan4, IrisDawnDancer, Padme.G, lia. , SlaveToSeverus, WizardSmurf, SereniteRose, rlsa, Nachtwens, Zedoc, DutchGirl01, and villafoo! (And some pretty sweet Guest reviewers.)_

 **The Professor's Widow**

 **Chapter Eight**

 _How Old?_

Snape looked towards the fireplace that Minerva had flooed away into. "She's aged so much."

Hermione nodded, "It's been a long series of years for her."

Severus turned towards her, "But she just looked old, so frail and … I never expected her to become so old. When did that happen?"

She tried to stop herself, but the words tumbled out, "While you were dead. Everyone's gotten old, well older." She shrugged.

As if the thought hadn't really processed for him before this exact moment, his eyes narrowed, and he asked, "How old are you, now?"

Hermione sort of faux-smiled, "You know it's impolite to ask a woman's age."

His face scowled, turning itself into an expression she had seen leveled at Neville Longbottom many times in her youth.

"Fine, fine. I'm thirty; I will be thirty-one come September." She let him take a beat before she asked, "You were thirty-eight when you died, so what how old are you now, thirty-seven, no, thirty-six?"

Severus Snape agreed, "yes, I am thirty-six. Well I was at least."

"You know… It's strange to think that as you sit here alive, now, you are only five years older than your godson. I wonder what Draco would think? Would you ever be able to see him as your peer? Or is it too odd to suddenly be, practically, the same age as the kid you saw in his nappies?"

His melancholy fell suddenly away as this new thought settled upon him. "Ha! It's Draco that is now my peer. How fantastic would it be to see the look on Lucius's vain visage when he realized that he's gotten old, and I have only gotten younger than he last saw me?" Severus seemed to be enjoying the moment of being petty. "Draco and I out for drinks on the prowl - while the old man stays at home." He was grinning like a maniac.

It was odd to see Severus on such a train of thought, and he must have realized it, too. Immediately, he shifted his eyes to the floor and readjusted his demeanour.

She smiled, "Don't stop laughing on my part. Seeing Lucius Malfoy be made to feel foolish has always been one of my favorite past times."

Her words seemed to help, but years of trained control were hard to break through, even out of your own time and in a world without the war that had forced such control.

Hermione added, "He's a governor at the school, now, you know - uh, Draco, not Lucius. He, Draco, will be there for this blasted meeting this afternoon." She paused uncertain if she wanted to really ask. Minerva was one thing, but once Draco knew, it wouldn't really be such a secret anymore. "You could come to the castle with me if you'd like. I can bring him to my chambers to see you after."

The time of facing this new life, whatever it meant, no matter how short the prospect, was upon him - ready or not. He contemplated it for a bit. "I think I should like to see him. I'm not ready for the world to know, yet though. Is the adult Draco trustworthy to hold this situation in confidence a while longer?"

Hermione nodded, "yes, I believe so."

"Good. Because I can't have the press in our business without a plan, and I need to finish reading that damned book you've written," he pointed to the biography manuscript. "If I am going to be alive while you publish all my secrets, I need to be sure that I don't come across ridiculous." He paused again, then goaded, "Or even worse, I need to be certain that you haven't written some awful Gryffindor version of me gallantly and stupidly brave."

oooo

Hermione fluttered around the house putting things into her bag, and Snape watched as she "put the house to rest" with obvious practice. Her wand moved without her conscious thought, and rooms were spelled clean, counters wiped down, clutter returned to its rightful place, and many more little spells that he could barely keep up with his observation.

She'd come to notice him perched watching, leaning against the wall near the fireplace. As if she'd become suddenly aware of her spell work, she lowered her wand a bit self-consciously.

He twirled his hand to signal continue. They were settling into a greater ability to communicate non-verbally.

She finished her spells and summoned her cloak from the rack. "Whenever I head to Hogwarts, I never seem to know when for sure I will be able to return here."

He agreed quickly, "oh yes, I know just what you mean. Albus can always make a quick meeting somehow become a week long mission."

Snape froze. Being uncomfortable was not something he was familiar with, but now, his whole world seemed to be full of faux-pas and misspoken words. "I mean he used to."

Hermione reached towards his wrist, but then thought better of it mid-movement and her arm just hung awkwardly in the air. "You don't upset me, Severus. I still can't get over feeling like this isn't real, so I think it's okay if you don't remember all the things that haven't happened in your future past - or whatever the hell. I mean, I don't even really fully believe that you are here, flesh and bone."

She put the awkward hand on the wall in the space between them. "I keep expecting to wake up with Pomphrey staring at me from some failed experiment or that you're really just a ghost and my hand would pass right through you."

Snape put his own hand up and covered hers on the wall. He pulled it into his own and guided her hand to lie on his wrist. "Not a ghost."

Hermione squeezed lightly, feeling the edge of his wrist bone. She audibly sucked in air. The stood that way in the perplexity of the moment, but it couldn't have been more than a few seconds before Snape pulled away.

All his thoughts and feelings veiled tightly behind the mask of indifference that he'd spent a lifetime crafting. No hint of emotion escaped, as he gestured towards the floo. "Shall we?"

oooo

Much like with Spinner's End, Severus's quarters, classroom, and lab space had all become Hermione's. In retrospect, Hermione had come to realize that Ron's insecurities may not have been completely baseless.

Hermione did behave like a widow of a man that she had never loved and only really learned to actually like as a person well after his death. It was as she had worked to preserve his memory, that she'd become increasingly aware of all things Snape. In many ways, she had become a living monument to him, but who wouldn't to some degree under such a circumstance.

It was, now, over half a decade later, she could reflect with maturity that perhaps Ron wasn't _totally off his rocker_ , as she had screamed at him. Hermione being in all Severus's spaces and knowing all his secrets and in essence, living his life seemed infinitely more intimate with an alive version of him around to witness it.

Severus studied the differences in his living quarters. Hermione indicated to the space, "I didn't do as much here as I did at Spinner's End. The castle is pretty finicky about things."

Snape smirked and pressed his hand against the stone walls. It was clear that something magical was happening as the atmosphere of the sitting room changed. "The castle's magic is like a river. You have to be willing to flow with it rather than shoving your own will against it."

Hermione watched in wonder as an ancient dungeon light fixture transformed into a stunning and more beautiful replica of what hung over the dining table at Spinner's End. A small, "awe," escaped her lips.

"Perhaps, I still do have a few secrets left." He tapped his temple with his finger.

Hermione opened her mouth to speak, and he lifted his hand in a stop motion.

"Yes, Granger, I will teach you."

"How did you know what I was going to say?" she huffed indignantly.

"You're Hermione Granger," was all he replied, as if that alone was a sufficient answer.

She shook her head, "Yes, well. Knowledge is power." With that she reached into her bag, "here, I brought you this to read while I am in the meeting." She handed him the latest manuscript complete with notes from her recent meeting. "Before I go," she looked at him. "Do you want me to tell Draco anything that might expedite the whole _how are you here? You're not real!_ Part of the reveal?"

Snape paused and thought for a moment. His nose twitched ever so slightly as he contemplated and clearly passed on certain ideas. "Tell him that I have forgiven him for what he said during his fourth year during the tournament. If he presses you, it was the day of the Black Lake task."

Everyday, it seemed to Hermione that there was more and more that she didn't know about the life and times of Severus Snape. She nodded her head, "okay, I will return after a while." She waved a strange goodbye and disappeared out the doorway.

oooo

Hermione had sat silently in the midst of the very heated meeting for nearly an hour before she could no longer take it. "Enough!" She bellowed.

Even Headmistress McGonagall looked taken aback by the decree.

Hermione Granger was on her feet, black teaching cloak flowing out behind her. She stood tall and narrowed her eyes. "This is absurd. I will address the clear elephant in the room. While _yes, some_ former Death Eaters are allowed to attend the Victory Day celebration, _no not all_ should be. Draco Malfoy damn well knows that the lot of you have been tiptoeing around his name for the better part of this last hour, and while you continue to sling _mud_ at his name, he has done and said nothing to stand up for himself." She paused surveying the room.

"So, I will stand up for him - Draco Malfoy has done his time and paid his retributions. His parents have done the same. He is a contributing member to society. He runs a bloody charity for Merlin's sake! And you, can act like he is a menace and try to use the Victory Day as an excuse to boot him from this board, but that would make you as hateful and divisive as the man that we achieved this victory against. I call for a vote to continue to allow members of the community that _deserve_ to attend to be invited to the Victory Day celebration and that we end this meeting right now!"

Silence echoed around the chamber.

Then, Draco realized Hermione was staring holes into his face, "oh, I second that motion."

McGonagall was barely audible, "All those in favor of continuing admission to the Victory Day as it always has been say 'aye'."

A cacophony of "ayes" rang out under the menacing stare of the Deputy Headmistress.

"All those against continuing admission to the Victory Day as it always has been say nay."

A lone squeaky "nay" fell into space.

"Well that clears up that matter then. We will have our next regularly scheduled meeting about school business in October. Meeting adjourned." Minerva rose from her seat.

Governors began to exit quickly to avoid having to speak to Hermione, and Minerva ushered them into the hallway.

Draco walked the distance between them and finally, stood next to Granger. "You could've done that thirty minutes ago, you know?" His trademark smirk fully replacing the humble face that had been in place throughout the meeting.

Hermione let out a noise that sounded a bit like a wounded animal. "Bollocks! That was such shite."

Malfoy chuckled, "remind me never to piss you off."

"I already have remember?" Hermione mimed punching him in the face.

He made a childish face.

Minerva returned in the room, and it was now just the three of them.

"Was that really necessary Miss Granger?"

Malfoy's eyebrows did a thing, and he said, "ooohh, she called you Miss Granger. You're in trouble."

"You hush." She turned towards McGonagall. "Yes, Minerva, it was necessary. You heard what they were saying, and you know why. I don't know how you can even entertain them."

McGonagall sighed, "You know that not everyone is a believer in Draco's altruistic qualities. There are a couple of choice aurors that make it known rather loudly."

Her hands settled on her hips, "Just because Ronald Weasley still hates Draco because of their adolescent ridiculousness, does not mean that Draco doesn't have the right to attend the Victory Day celebrations."

Malfoy muttered something unintelligible.

"What was that?"

His eyes remained on the floor, "it's because he thinks we are," his hands wafting between them, "you know."

As realization dawned on McGonagall, her laughter began to bloom.

But Hermione didn't catch on, "Do what? What does Ron think we are?"

Malfoy's eyes opened a bit wider trying to indicate wordlessly his meaning.

McGonagall jumped in laughing, "Hermione, Ron thinks you and Mr. Malfoy are sleeping together."

Her mouth hung open aghast. "What? Why? Are you sure?"

Malfoy just nodded and shrugged.

Hermione shook her head and began to pace. "What kind of ridiculous…" her words trailed off into muttering.

He explained. "There was apparently a picture from Victory Day in Witches Weekly."

"Of what?" Hermione asked.

"Do you remember when Slughorn knocked into my back, and I spilled firewhiskey all down your gown?"

She nodded, understanding blooming in her eyes.

"There's a picture right after when I am giving you the handkerchief, but the angle, well, it doesn't look exactly innocent."

"Heavens! This is why the hullabaloo about not having Death Eaters at Victory Day." Hermione was incredulous. "Why does he still even care? He has a wife and all the happy little strawberry blonde brats he could possibly want." She was so frustrated she wanted to cry.

Malfoy supplied some support, "it will all blow over. It always does. Don't stress about it, but uh, thanks for sticking up for me."

Hermione groaned, "Now, it's really going to look like I'm sleeping with you!"

Minerva laughed some more, but then, segwayed the conversation, "Hermione, are you sticking around the castle or headed home?"

Draco stood up like he was stretching to leave.

"Uh, well, I have something that I need to share with Malfoy here, and it's, uh, in the castle." Hermione raised her eyebrows to Minerva.

"Oh good! I am so glad that you are going to include Mr. Malfoy."

Draco had paused confused.

McGonagall added, "Before you go back to Spinner's End, I would like to see -," she paused leaving a blank, "again. I have a few things he would probably want. I'll be in my chambers, so just let me know."

Hermione nodded, "will do."

"I'll leave you to it, then." McGonagall looked at Draco, "Draco, what Hermione has to show you is unbelievable, but believe them. Don't let you cynicism get in the way. It's real, and it's true." With that McGonagall left the room, leaving Hermione alone with Malfoy.

"What's going on? You're being weirder than usual which is saying something."

"You'll probably want to sit down for this."

He wafted his hand in a scoffing manner, "Just tell me what in the bloody hell you're on about."

"Okay, Draco, Severus Snape is alive."

With those words, Malfoy's knees gave way, and he fell in an ungraceful, completely non-Malofy-esque way into a seated position on the chair behind him.

 _AN: Leave some love! I cannot wait for Draco to see Hermione and Snape together. Someone who knows them both and is their peer._


	9. Awkward & Interrupted

_AN: Wowzers! We are over a hundred reviews and close to a hundred and fifty story follows on this one. You guys make my heart happy. The little reading frenzy that happens when I post a chapter is so fantastic, and it makes me want to write more and faster. Lots of you said the last chapter was fun, so I can't wait to see what you make of this one._

 _Thank you to you fantastic readers that reviewed chapter 8: Villafoo, FrancineHibiscus, Calindy, rlsa, .fanfic, lia. , SereniteRose, RhodaBush, Nachtwens, Zedoc, LFA, bluepixiestix, SarahF, smithback, DutchGirl01, WizardSmurf, and BlueHP. Let me know what you think of this one._

 **The Professor's Widow**

 **Chapter Nine**

 _Awkward & Interrupted _

After her merely adequate attempt to eloquently explain the condition of the " _copied from the past into the future but doesn't quite know everything"_ Severus, Hermione determined that she really needed to create a picture-timeline-chart-something-or-other if she was going to have to keep participating in this "reveal" to people.

As they walked silently down the hallway towards her quarters, she mused that maybe her chart should be an easy to carry pamphlet; then, it could have a "frequently asked questions" section. "No, he's not necromanced" - was clearly something that needed to be clarified.

She wondered what it said about her that two people that knew her fairly well would assume she would raise a man from the dead. It didn't seem all together a good thing.

They arrived at a tapestry in one of the deeper dungeon hallways. Hermione moved the tapestry aside and tapped a wand combination against the wall. The doorway and passage appeared where the wall had stood.

When they entered the sitting room, Severus was standing perusing the bookshelf. He turned slowly so that his cloak billowed in his regular dramatic fashion, and he met his Draco in the eye. Snape sized Draco up, looking him up and down silently without expression.

Unlike Hermione, who had only truly seemed aged after spending time with her, Draco was very clearly a different human than the version he had last seen. Gone was the lanky teenage boy, and in his place stood a regal and filled out man. There was a short, stubbled blonde beard flanking his cheeks, and he was broader through the shoulders. If it had been Draco, instead, that he'd first seen in the lab that day, Severus would have had no doubt as to the passage of time.

"Hello, Draco."

Malfoy didn't seem to know what to say. He was still in shock, unable to process what he saw. Severus Snape alive and unaged stood before him.

"Sir."

Draco slowly walked closer to the man he had known his whole life, the man who he'd later found out had been responsible for the salve that he had applied to his burning Dark Mark for weeks. The man who had killed Dumbledore when he could not. The man who countless times had saved him from detentions, groundings, and so much worse was here and alive in front of him.

As it turned out, Draco was now taller than Severus by nearly a full four or five centimeters. He reached out and found himself in maybe only the third hug that the two of them had ever shared. "You're really here. You're alive."

Hermione stood awkwardly in the corner and met the eyes of Snape during the brief embrace. Snape nodded towards her, and she caught the slightest edge of a smile in his eyes.

As the two broke apart, Hermione spoke. "I'm going to let the two of you catch up. I'll be in the lab doing some work."

Draco and Snape were taking seats across from one another, and as she looked at them both fondly, she was able to see how truly young Snape was. Despite his being now just five years older than Draco, his face didn't have the same crow line creases forming around his eyes. The paleness of Snape's alabastor skin made him look more like he was made of porcelain while Draco had clearly seen a bit too much of the sun on all those French beaches in the last decade and had aged because of it.

As Hermione headed for the door, she observed that both men were in their own way handsome. Draco clearly more in the traditional sense: blonde hair, piercing eyes, noble features. But Snape was interesting: his eyes were black pools that many had called cold during her years at school, but she found depth in them.

Both men paused their chitchat to look at Hermione standing paused with her hand on the door. She realized that she had been staring, and her cheeks flushed. "Sorry," she muttered and scurried out the door.

oooo

Hermione had nearly lost track of time in the midst of brewing, calculating, and brainstorming. The board in front of her was scrawled with notes and theories. She had begun to hypothesize what formula would stabilize the magic in Severus's cells. The initial potion he had created was complex, though not overly so; however, she had never seen a way to duplicate and hold magic in the highly intricate way that his cells currently were. She didn't even really know where to begin to create a permanency or stability to that magic that seemed to be devouring itself at a slow rate.

She had countless scrawls and formulas by the time she paused.

Her head was pounding with all the work she had been doing to even get the process started, if it could even by done, and she needed to rest her feet. She headed back towards the sitting room to get herself a cup of tea.

oooo

She entered the room to find the pair still in the same chairs that she had left them in. Positioned facing each other, they were absorbed into deep conversation. The only addition was the bottle of firewhiskey on the table between them with a healthy amount missing and an empty glass in each of their hands.

They noticed and acknowledged her entry with slight nods of their heads but continued on. She took that acknowledgment as permission to be in earshot of them and walked to make tea at the cabinet.

" - he was fined and served a year in Azkaban, but he moved to the continent after his release. Like some of the others, you know, it's harder for some to deal with the scrutiny and the lack of status. I always liked Theo, though, so I do visit him from time to time. He and Father do quite a bit of work together these days." Draco explained.

Hermione transfigured herself a third chair in the sitting room across from the two men and listened to them without adding anything herself. It seemed that Draco was filling Snape in as to the fate of the Death Eaters. She summoned her journal and began to continue to work on some arithmancy formula schemes and patterns. She listened half-heartedly to their conversation while Malfoy listed more and more names of former Death Eaters and their current circumstances.

It was as the conversation changed gears that Hermione found herself less focused on her journal and more with the words the pair were exchanging.

"So no ring? You're not married, yet? I'm surprised your mother has let you stay a bachelor for this many years." Severus gently ribbed.

"Oh she's constantly chirping like a damn harpy about the next heir in our line. She reminds me every time I see her." Draco narrowed his eyes and dropped his voice to a whisper. "But I can't tell her that marriage would stifle the train of witches who like to see this scar and all my other battle wounds." He motioned towards his forearm and the Dark Mark scar beneath the layers of fabric.

She felt Snape make a slight side glance in her direction before he whispered in reply, "There have always been witches who like to live on the wild side."

Hermione could feel her cheeks growing hot. Slowly she closed her notebook and stood to busy herself with something else, but Draco spoke up, "Oh come off it Granger - I know you're not as prudish as all that. You lived in a damn tent with those two idiots for a solid year, so you are clearly not some puritanical virgin."

She turned to meet his eyes, "That doesn't mean I need to picture the never ending stream of trollops hot for the _reformed bad boy Draco Malfoy,_ " she said the last part in an antagonist singsong voice.

Malfoy chuckled, "You're just mad because the press thinks you're one of those trollops." Being without the company of McGonagall made him significantly less self-conscious, well, that and the firewhiskey.

Her hands went to her hips, "of course, I'm mad. We run the Foundation together. We've made so much headway in reforming some archaic laws together. And it's not because we are -" she gestured between them, "you know -" She couldn't bring herself to say it, so Malfoy at the slightest edge of inebriation supplied it for her.

"Sleeping together." His trademark smirk firmly in place.

Snape's head quickly craned between the pair as Draco's words sunk in. His eyes locked onto Hermione's.

She tightened her lips and scrunched her nose as if she smelled something foul, "Ugg, yes, I mean no! Idiots, the lot of them." She wafted her hand dismissively, "I would never sleep with you, and you damn well know it. I don't know how the rest of the world doesn't!"

Draco was obviously offended by her glaring disgust and rejection and had quickly grown past the humor stage. Instead a snarl of anger, that he ordinarily fought with himself to keep contained, rose up, "It isn't because of me Hermione!" He spat her name like it was venom, "It's because you are married to a dead man, who no one else could ever compete with! No one else is allowed to touch you or look at you. Merlin forbid!"

With realization of what he had just said and the company in the room, he slapped his hand over his mouth. He ran his thumb and forefinger across the scruff on his chin, "I, uh," He looked at Snape uncertain what he could even say. Draco's eyes fell to the floor, and Snape could see that while physically Draco Malfoy was a different man, many of the same insecurities and childish outbursts seemed to still haunt him in his state of rage, "I have to go." Draco grabbed his cloak and rushed to the floo.

The green flames flared and dissolved away, leaving Hermione and Severus alone in an extremely awkward silence.

Hermione reached for the bottle of whiskey and pulled the top off. She didn't bother with a glass but took a swift chug. "Well that happened."

Snape looked at her with a perplexed look. "There's clearly more to all of that."

She sighed, "yes, yes, there is. It's all a bit embarrassing if I'm being honest."

"Was there something between you and Draco?" He asked point blank.

She shook her head, "no, never on my part, but I think there was a time that he wanted to pursue it."

"And he meant me, right? The dead man? It's me?"

Inhaling deeply, "yes, he means you. I told you that they call me the Professor's Widow."

"You did, but you made it sound silly and unimportant. When clearly, you have sacrificed some part of your life serving in this role." He was processing as he spoke.

Relieving herself of the weight of the truth, she relented, "yes, I suppose I have. It's easier you know, to be married to a dead man. He never gets angry or cheats. There are no fights and no insecurities."

They passed the bottle of liquor back and forth, drinking without words for a series of gulps.

"Do you wish I was still dead Hermione? Was it easier for you that way?"

It was serious territory they had found themselves in. "Oh Severus, I wouldn't say that. This, you being here alive, is complicated, more than I knew, but I'm still glad for it." She paused, "in fact, I think, I feel more freedom in these last days that you've been here. Like I can be myself, Hermione Granger. I know they've all been calling me your widow, but I don't think it was so much that as I was trying to actually be you. Trying to keep your legacy alive by keeping you alive in a way."

He nodded. "I can see how you would come to that. My house, my job, my research. It all sort of becomes my life." The silence ebbed between them, and he closed his eyes. She could see the years of training and self awareness that allowed him to shift gears and emotions being put into action as he slightly shook his head from side to side.

He took another, even bigger chug, from the bottle quite nearly polishing it off. With a rather large grin forming at the edges of his mouth, he said, "this talk is all rather grim, how about something lighter."

Hermione looked incredibly relieved, "yes please, anything else."

"Tell me about the Master Bathroom mirror." The glimmer in his eyes was positively lewd.

Her cheeks turned scarlet.

"You did say anything," he said with the faintest shrug.

There was a line hovering between them, invisible. Her response would either push them past or keep him at a distance.

"You're trying to be troublesome on purpose, sir."

He leaned forward in his chair, making himself closer to her. "Oh indeed, but I don't think I'm the one who started any of this trouble Miss Granger. After all, it was you who shared some _special times_ with my image trapped in that mirror."

Her skin felt hot and flushed. She playfully retorted, "Yes, but it was your image and your voice saying very, very inappropriate things to sweet little me."

"And you complied with his requests." It wasn't a question.

"I've always complied with your requests, sir." Her voice was submissive in an unmistakably sensual way. She, too, leaned forward in her chair so that their faces were only a hands-width apart.

His legs began to lift him from the chair. A line about to be crossed, when instantly the room tinged green as green flames filled the floo with a floo call. The fire drew into the image of a fiery face and a man's voice called out, "Hermione, Hermione, are you there?" The voice yelled behind him, "No, I tried her house first." Then back into the floo louder, "Hermione?" Ron Weasley's head filled the flames. His voice pleading and urgent.

She quickly rushed towards the fireplace, "I'm here. I'm here."

"It's Harry, you need to come now."

 _AN: Ahhh…. Interrupted, but I told you they would be. It is the chapter title after all. Draco was quite enjoyable to write in this chapter as he fights old demons and insecurities. We got another peak at what the title of the whole story really means for Hermione's life and relationships, too._

 _I didn't use inches on the height (trying to stay true to the British system of height measurement), so for us American's I assumed (after some research) that Draco is very nearly 6' and Snape closer to 5'10"._

 _I hope you enjoyed this chapter and aren't too terribly miffed at me for the cliffhanger. What did you think of all the things? I LOVE hearing from you my darlings. Please, please review._


	10. Harry's in Danger

_AN: Sorry for the lengthy delay. Thank you for your kindness and patience. I took a new job in the fall (that I love), but I had to take some time to get situated. Now, that first semester is behind me, I am hopeful that I can get back into my regular updating schedule. Thanks for sticking it out with me. This chapter is a bit different than the rest, but it is a scene that we need for the overall story. Hopefully, you are good with it!_

 **The Professor's Widow**

 **Chapter Ten**

 _Harry's in Danger_

Last time on "The Professor's Widow.."

 _His legs began to lift him from the chair. A line about to be crossed, when instantly the room tinged green as green flames filled the floo with a floo call. The fire drew into the image of a fiery face and a man's voice called out, "Hermione, Hermione, are you there?" The voice yelled behind him, "No, I tried her house first." Then back into the floo louder, "Hermione?" Ron Weasley's head filled the flames. His voice pleading and urgent._

 _She quickly rushed towards the fireplace, "I'm here. I'm here."_

" _It's Harry, you need to come now."_

 **Begin Chapter Ten**

Whatever intoxicated buzz had been trickling across her skin dissolved away, and Hermione sobered instantly. She fled through the floo without so much as a, "farewell," to Severus or any additional questions to Ron.

It wasn't until she stepped through the magical path way that she began. "What's happened," she cried frantically. She took in her surroundings to find herself in a waiting room at St. Mungo's. More questions were beginning to swell, but the chaotic flutter and tizzy of the room silenced her before she could ask.

She took in the scene.

Around the room, a blonde woman was shouting desperately into another floo on the opposite wall. Her tone was shrill and clearly stressed.

Across an aisle between the back of two plush sofas, she watched Ginny Potter pacing anxiously with her pinky fingernail being gnawed at my her front teeth.

Snapping her out of it, Ron gripped her tightly on her shoulders and looked her firmly in the eyes, "You're going to need to be calm, Hermione. Everyone is going to need your strength right now."

Hermione forced the bile back down her throat and nodded, "I can keep it together. Just tell me-" she paused, "Is he alive?"

Ron's face was so grim that she couldn't tell what news he was going to share. "He's alive, but it doesn't look good. We need to be prepared." His last statement was hushed and barely audible.

For a brief moment her world seemed to dissolve; there was a grayness. Slowly the light returned, and she forced herself to take deep pacing breaths. Her wits began to pull together.

Directly and without inflection, she asked, "Ron, I need for you to tell me what has happened."

But it was just then that a set of redheads burst into the waiting room from yet another floo. They were all on Ginny, hugging and consoling her in an instant. Noticeably missing was Molly. Ron got pulled away, and Hermione felt her stomach tying itself in knots.

Charlie was talking loudly to Ginny, "Mum's with the kids. She's got them. You don't need to fret about the babes. They're probably filled with lollies right now."

Arthur was hugging Lavender Weasley, and Hermione stood towards the back watching the family that she was once so certain she would be a part of.

She scooted in closer to the circle around Ginny. Voices talking over one another were all basically asking the same question, "what happened?"

Ginny was fighting through tears to explain to her family what had happened to her beloved husband. "I-I, don't really know." She stuttered, "he-he fell into the kitchen from the sky. There was just so much blood, and there were symbols carved into his skin. He was barely breathing. I just don't know." She broke down into tears and whatever else she might have said was incomprehensible.

Hermione knew something of the project that Harry had been working on. He had come to her for a couple of runes translations and to look over some ancient potions recipes that could only have been considered black magic. She had sworn an oath to him to keep the secret. And with her own rather large pile of work, she hadn't gotten too worried about Harry's latest escapade.

Stepping back out and towards the patient rooms, Hermione slipped away from the hustle of the crowd. She knew her way around the hospital better than most. She had taken on the responsibility of supplying most of the level 1 and 2 healing potions for the facility. Her bank vault had grown substantially thanks to her hard work. With so much commotion in the waiting area, it went wholly unnoticed when she tiptoed towards the ward that Harry Potter would most likely be in.

As she drew closer to the room, she could feel a great number of things: she could feel the hospital wards trying to keep her away from the patient space, and she could simultaneously feel an immense amount of darkness billowing from the area. There was no doubt in her mind that her oldest friend was in grave danger. The magic felt old and unrefined. It was prickling at her skin in a strange, indescribable way.

She shuddered and drew her wand. It swished and flicked in a series of complex motions while she recited a set of incantations quietly. The complex protection spells she summoned had created a cool barrier against her skin. No longer could she feel the sting of dark magic or the wards.

Hermione carefully opened the door to the ward and peered into the room. Her intellect kicked in, and she became the Scientific observer that had won her the title of Science Fair Champion in Primary School. Her emotions were completely turned off; now, she was a woman ruled by facts and observations.

There in the center of what could only be described as a mess of pure panic and chaos was Harry Potter, the boy-who-lived, who at the moment, looked like that title might be taken away from him any moment.

The symbols were archaic, but her brain was processing on hyperspeed. Clearly, this language was from an early magic time, before wandlore and schooling existed the way it did in the modern era. It was similar in a way to the runes she had translated for him, but the symbols were older and different still. Harry's body was convulsing, and his skin had a white sheen like all the blood was nearly gone.

Healers were shouting loudly in all directions and waving their wands in swirls of light and color at dizzying speeds. Occasionally, one would try something that would blast them backwards across the room and the Healer would fly undignified into a stone wall.

A team of healers were magic-ing blood into his system as quickly as it was flowing out because the cuts and deep wounds would not close. They were rotating in and out like a delicate dance, but the blood continued to soak the sheets and splash onto the floor.

Hermione closed her eyes to block out the images.

She allowed her brain to spin and twist its way through the library of knowledge in her mind. In her studies and research, she had allowed herself to consume knowledge of many types.

Seconds passed her by.

The time seemed to crawl.

A shout rang out, "we are losing him."

Magical sirens and alarms were blaring.

She forced herself to dig deeper, to think harder, and there she stumbled onto a series of thoughts that no one else would be insane enough to try.

Additionally, it was unlikely that many of the Healers would be remotely familiar with the magic she was about to perform. It was old, dark, uncontrollable, and this choice undoubtedly came with a great personal risk… but when had such a thing ever stopped Hermione Granger?

She walked to the massive huddle of Healers like she belonged, and no one gave her a second glance. (Likely because she was Hermione Granger, but also, because of the sheer volume of insanity and witchcraft filling the room.)

Instead of pointing her wand at Harry, she pointed it at herself and uttered what was without the darkest magic Hermione Granger had ever performed. She channeled her magical core in a way that she had never tested, and she released her consciousness into the spellwork. Her mouth and hands began to move without her permission as the magic began to pull in from beneath her feet. She was allowing her body to act as a conduit to an ancient magical form in the Earth. It was an extremely dangerous and potentially volatile idea.

Magic began to pool into her body from an unseen source below her. Then, her wand fell unceremoniously on the bloodsoaked floor with a clang while her hands themselves began to shine lights and shimmers into and onto Harry's graying form.

The energy projecting from her began to encase him. It lifted his body inches from the bed and bathed him in a deep rich glow. The symbols (while not dissolving) began to close and pucker into deep, red scars. This seemed to staunch the loss of blood pouring from him. The convulsions slowed and halted, and finally, his form began to take the magic fully from Hermione until it was no longer pouring from her- but now rather emanating from him.

How long this whole magical transference took, Hermione could not be certain of. Hermione Granger wasn't even certain if she was conscious. Someone, something else was in control.

The mass of Healers around Harry and began to lower their wands sometime during this whole process, and many of them were staring at Hermione with gaping mouths.

During her spellwork, physical changes had taken place to Hermione's physical form. Her hair grew quickly and wildly into very long tresses that touched the floor. The veins in her body and face could now be seen through her very translucent skin, and it was unclear if she looked like a monster or a thing of beauty.

No one spoke.

The silence stretched on as the final bits of whatever Hermione had summoned left her and encased Harry completely.

His coloring had pinked up and the magical displays in the room began to show that his vitals were stabilizing until they were fully stable

With all eyes on her looking for an explanation, Hermione opened her mouth to speak. She fully intended to explain what she had just done to the room, but as tried to talk, the voice that came from her body was not her own.

"Tell no one what you have seen. Healer Wallace, you will tell the family that you stabilized the boy with a series of potions and complex spellwork with the team. Each of your spells together worked. I was never here." Her voice was deep and gravelly and very much not her own.

It was like her words had been a combination of an Obilivate and an Imperius all without the wand work or the spell.

The healers turned their eyes from her and began to once again bustle around Harry, while Healer Wallace confirmed some vitals with another Healer and began to walk out towards the waiting room. She was basically invisible at this point and found herself regaining control of her form. She seemed unnoticed by the others in the room.

As she finally felt able to move of her own volition, Hermione slid out of the patient ward and into a supply room that she knew to be just around the corner.

She pulled the door shut and fell to the ground in a heap.

Her body ached and throbbed in all directions. She felt like she had been run over by the Knight Bus. The hair that touched the ground in the Patient Ward had soaked up blood and was squishing beneath her. Her wand was somehow in its holster beneath her robes, but how it had found its way back she had no recollection of.

She began to sob and sob uncontrollably. Her whole body racking itself up and down in big heaves.

The door to her sanctuary opened, and hooded figure stepped inside.

He lowered himself to the ground, and she fell into his arms - knowing without needing to see his face that Severus Snape now held her.

He patted her head and rocked her slightly until the worst of it had passed.

She inhaled deeply and sat up, pulling away from him. "How did you find me?"

"Shh- there will be time for that later. Let's get you home and cleaned up. It will do you no good for anyone to find you in this state."

He stood and recovered his face with the traveling cloak. He looked about the supply closet. "I didn't bring an extra robe. Didn't know we would both need to sneak out."

Hermione put her hand up and reached into her pocket to reveal a beaded bag. From the depths, she pulled a similar traveling cloak to his and covered herself. They did a quick check of the hallway and walked in the opposite direction of the waiting room full of Weasley's.

Finding an empty waiting room two corridors down, they each grabbed and handful of floo powder.

"Spinner's End!"

 _AN: Well, my dears, how did you like that? A bit of commotion in our already commotion-filled story. Let me know by leaving a review. :)_


	11. Harry's Okay

**The Professor's Widow**

 **Chapter Eleven**

 _Harry's Okay_

The sunlight was peeking through cracks in the pulled-to curtains. Hermione had dozed well into the morning, but a soft tap on the door woke her from the light sleep.

"They've owled half a dozen times. You have to get up and go back to the hospital."

She looked like hell, and he presumed that she felt worse. He had only dealt with ancient magicks a handful of times, but from what he had experienced in his youth, it always messed with the magical core and took days to feel right after.

"I'm up," she said sitting up. She reached for her wand on the night table and wondered if she was really moving as slowly as it seemed from her perspective.

Severus had two bottles in his hand. He handed them to her without comment.

She took them knowing that one was a very strong version of a Pepper-Up potion and the other a mild pain reliever. There wasn't much conversation between the pair. Hermione was still groggy, and the entirety of the previous evening was a bit of blur for her. Severus was already back out of the room before she could even get her feet on the floor.

Hermione didn't spend much time getting dressed; she looped her, now, very long hair into a twist on the back of her head.

When she made it into the living room, she found him sitting on the couch. The piles of books she had left for him days before now in neat piles on the side table. Hermione started to open her mouth, uncertain what to say, but Severus held his hand up, "Go. I will be here when you return."

So, go she did.

The hospital waiting room was bustling, much like it had been the day before. However, today, the chatter was excited and less frantic. Molly had toddlers on both of her knees: one with strawberry hair and the other with the trademark Weasley-red. Red-heads were sprawled on every sofa in the room. Two were engaged in a game of Exploding Snap. One was reading a book. Another was talking animatedly with Arthur.

He was the first to see her step through the floo. "Hermione! There you are."

Molly hopped up, placing the little tikes in the overstuffed armchair behind her. Molly embraced Hermione with motherly warmth. "We were worried that you didn't know. You've heard the good news, right? Harry is going to make a full recovery."

Hermione managed a smile. "I've heard. I am relieved."

Arthur had joined them, "Ginny and Ron are back with him now. Only two visitors at a time, but I'm sure you can go on - one of them will come out, so you can see him."

Hermione nodded. She was grateful in this moment that she hadn't married Ron. If she had been a Weasley, there would have been a lot more questions about where she had been overnight. These days, however, Hermione came and went as she pleased without the oversight of the entire Weasley clan.

She walked in the direction of the Intensive Curse Recovery Ward. A Healer saw her as she pushed through the doors. As if by route, he began to ask, "Do you know where you are headed?," but the moment he saw who she was, he added, "Oh, Professor Granger, Mister Potter has been asking for you. Also, Healer Greengrass was hoping she could catch you while you were here, too."

Hermione was grateful for the heavy dose of Pepper-Up. She faked a smile on her face, "Will you let Greengrass know I will come by her office when I am done with my visit?"

"Absolutely." The Healer smiled.

Hermione could hear the laughter of her oldest friends in the back of the ward. She dug deep to find the right level of relief and mirth for this moment. She slid her hand onto Ginny's shoulder. "I heard you guys were looking for me."

Ginny jumped slightly, but at the sound of Hermione's voice, spun around to hug her. "Oh thank Merlin."

Ron slowly met her gaze, "Hey 'Mione."

Harry's face was pulled up into a goofy grin. "Hermione, I'm so glad you're here." He turned to his wife, "Gin, would you mind going and checking on the kids? I'll catch Hermione up."

Ginny laid her hand gingerly on Harry's hand and pecked a light kiss on his cheek. "Of course, Ron and I will go check on everyone."

Ron turned and furrowed his brow, clearly not pleased about getting kicked out, but Ginny was quite the intuitive wife and knew that Harry needed a few minutes with Hermione alone. Since Ron and Hermione's fairly public falling out, Ginny had spent many holidays and events strategically keeping Ron occupied so that Hermione and Harry could get a few minutes as friends.

When they were alone, the goofy grin dissolved from Harry's face, and his expression became serious. "What did you do?"

Feigning nativity, Hermione asked, "What do you mean?"

Harry shook his head, "Nope, nuh-uh. I know you were there. You came to me in the worst of it."

Hermione let her body sag into a chair next to the bed. "I think I deserve to know what you did to end up like you did, too. Only fair that you share before I do."

Harry chuckled. "You already know."

"You went messing around with some ancient evil and pissed it off. I know that much."

"Yeah," Harry agreed. "It was why I had you translate that stuff earlier in the year. I've been working on finding the source of Dark Magic on the side."

"Alone?" she asked, incredulous.

"Not something, I can share with just anyone."

"You are dumber than I thought you were, Harry. You can't go messing around with Earth Magicks that stuff can be really dangerous. You know that, though."

He nodded, "I also know that you did something stupid and dangerous, yesterday."

"To save your arse."

"You look like hell."

"Same to you."

"Our secret?"

"Of course."

"How are you feeling?" He asked.

"Like a stampede of Blast-Ended Skrewts knocked out all of my teeth. You?"

"Mine's more like a Hippogriff sitting on my chest and clawing me from my guts."

They laughed.

"What's the story for the family?" She asked.

"That I picked up a cursed object in the middle of routine investigation. Where did you tell them you went last night?"

"I didn't. That's the beauty of not being a Weasley. Everyone expects me to disappear into the shadows these days."

Harry asked, "Are you having any side effects from the Earth Magick?"

"I think so. You've been studying it pretty heavily. What can I expect?"

He wouldn't meet her eyes. "Did it use you as a conduit?"

"Yes."

"It will try it again. You'll need to control your emotions. You might need to find someone to teach Potions for you in the Fall."

Her pulse began to quicken. Her heart shuddered in its cage, "what do you mean, Potter?"

"You are going to have a lot of power for a while, and you might not be able to control it all. It might control you. Is there someone that you can get to keep an eye on you for a couple of weeks to monitor your emotions and spellwork? Maybe McGonagall? Or -," Harry paused, "Or Malfoy?"

"Oh Merlin, not you, too? You don't actually think Draco and I are…?" She trailed off.

Harry laughed, "I don't know that picture from Victory Day looked pretty cozy, and I heard from someone on the Governor's Board that says you gave them the what have you over Draco the other day in a meeting."

She made a sound of disgust. "We aren't."

"Well either way, do you think you can get someone to be with you for the next month, maybe longer?"

"Yes, I can. Can I come pick up your research on this?"

"I'll send it to Spinner's End for you when I get home. They're supposedly going to let me go home tomorrow as long as I stay on bedrest for another week."

"Will you have any symptoms from all this?" she inquired.

"Hard to say, but I have a feeling that you took that on for the both of us. It's why I'm worried about you more than myself."

"Don't worry about me, Harry. I'm not the one who intentionally went looking for source of all evil like an idiot." There was a pause, and Hermione drew herself out of the chair, "I have to go find Astoria. I'm sure she wants me to brew something else for her."

"I doubt it." Harry laughed.

"What?"

"I'm sure she wants to know about the Malfoy thing."

"Urg." Hermione grimaced. "For her sake, I hope not. Feel better, Harry. I'll come by the house later in the week."

He rolled over and closed his eyes, "Be safe, Hermione."

He was asleep before she could make it out the door of the ward.

 _AN: Thank you for sticking with me on this adventure. Love your reviews and thoughts!_


	12. I'll Need You

_AN: Thank you so much for your love and reviews. I took a long hiatus from this one because I had lost some of my drive. However, I am back at it feeling refreshed. I really love the comments from chapter 11! Thanks to madphysicist, Smithback, rlsa, RhodaBush, Zedoc, and Lucyole._

 **The Professor's Widow**

 **Chapter Twelve**

 _I'll Need You_

Hermione trudged down a darkened hallway in St. Mungo's Hospital because she wanted to get this meeting over as quickly as possible so that she could return home to rest in her comfortable bed.

Astoria Greengrass was a Healer on the Women's floor, and Hermione was the primary potion supplier for the department. Part of patenting Snape's potion work in her twenties had included a vast number of healing and pain potions. Several of the formulas were designed initially to avoid detection from Lord Voldemort; for this reason, the levels of magical interactions were low, making many of them perfect for pregnant witches and for Magical Labor and Delivery.

She tapped lightly on the glass door of the office window. "Tori, it's Granger. Are you in there?"

The luxurious brunette squealed with delight as she opened the door, "Granger! It's been ages!" She absent-mindedly reached across and swept a rebellious curl out of Hermione's face for her. It was the sort of gesture that would have made an outside observer question the depth of this friendship, but really, it was just Astoria's fondness for Hermione and all the work and history the pair had.

"They told me downstairs that you were asking for me?" Hermione didn't have the energy to be wholly cordial

Astoria's brow furrowed ever-so-slightly, and she remarked, "Yes, I'm sorry about Harry, though I heard he will make a full recovery."

Hermione nodded slowly.

Astoria again reached across this time grabbing Hermione by the wrist. She took her pulse and with the other hand felt the skin on Hermione's forehead. Ever the Healer, she chided Hermione, "Your pulse is wrong. Something is off with your magic."

Hermione shook her head; she should have blown Astoria off today.

"I am fine," she said pulling her hand back.

Astoria's gaze stayed on Hermione's face.

Hermione wafted the Healer away, "Tori, really - I am working on something, and I had a small incident. It's fine, though, really."

"You promise you will come back to me or to someone if you need something?"

"I promise." These days it seemed that she could sail undetected in a room full of Gryffindor Weasleys, but the Slytherins in her life held her more accountable for her actions. Time was funny thing that way. Hermione huffed, "Now, what is it that you want?"

Healer Greengrass began to shuffle through the stack on her desk. "I was sent this Potion Sample from a new company. It looks to be similar to your Little Witches and Wizards line that the Foundation sells. The claims are that theirs is twice as effective."

Hermione reached for the flyer and found a small vile attached. The sheen on the liquid in the tube was different than the pain reliever that she had a patent on. She popped the cork and wafted the smell to her nose. "Is there an ingredient list?"

Astoria shook her head. "No, and there's another sales flyer from them in here, too. The company claims to have done work in muggle, uh what's the term," she enunciated hard, "bee-o-mekaniks."

Hermione supplied the term, "Biomechanics."

"Here it is." She passed a trifold brochure to Hermione.

Hermione scanned it but didn't have the energy or frame of mind to fully take it in, "Can I hold on to these?" She asked holding both up.

"Yeah, that's why I wanted to find you. I didn't know if you had heard about them yet."

"Oh," Hermione said. "Well, thank you, I appreciate that."

"I say this with all the love in the world - you look awful. Go home."

Hermione chuckled, "Thanks Tori. I think I will do just that."

The petite witch practically fell through floo and found herself on her duff on the living room floor at Spinner's End.

She could hear Snape bounding the stairs by twos coming up from the basement, "Miss Granger, are you alright?"

"Fine." She croaked.

Severus entered the room to see the woman laying her head back on the ground.

"I'm just tired. Doing magic, even the floo, makes me so tired."

He wasn't entirely certain if she was talking to him or to herself. "Can I get you something? Or help you up off the floor at very least?"

A sound escaped her lips, but who knows what she had said because by the time Severus walked towards her form he found her to be unconscious. With several swishes of his wand, he determined that she was breathing and still alive. He nearly reached out to pick her up off the floor, but something about the proximity of her body on his when she was out of it seemed unfair.

Instead, he levitated her to the sofa. He covered her with a blanket and discovered the two flyers clutched in her right hand. His eyes were drawn to the words and the shimmery vial. He read them and reread them as he walked to the kitchen. He put a kettle on to boil, and while he waited, he examined the potion with greater scrutiny. He brewed a cup and walked it back into the living room. It seemed that Miss Granger had not come to. He considered magically waking her, but he decided against it. The ancient magic wouldn't wreak as much havoc on her system while she was unconscious.

He took the literature and the vial back down the stairs towards the home laboratory that Hermione kept. Much like the main level, the lab had undergone many renovations since it had been his. She had likely done much of the work down here herself because the room expansion charms were not nearly as seamless and professional as the bright and airy spaces upstairs. Instead, the gaps of additions went up or down a step, and there were nicks in the ceiling were places had been rearranged. The lab itself was immaculate and well-stocked, but it didn't surprise him that the Potions Mistress preferred to work in the secondary lab at Hogwarts over this basement one.

How much time had disappeared while he didn't know. Hermione came down the stairs and found a place on a stool. "Did I pass out?" She asked.

"The floo was too much on you. There were some texts in my office at school that should provide us with some more information about the magic you performed. I almost went for them last night, but I didn't want to leave you alone here," his voice was gravelly and quiet, "with, with all of it so fresh." He regained a more steely exterior, "Once it's dark out, I will go get them if - if they're still in the castle, and if they're somewhere I can access without being seen, and I supposed if you can remember where you moved them to."

She was nursing a cup of tea in her hands, "Where were the texts when you last saw them?" She cracked a smile, clearly feeling a bit better after her rest, "I mean, it's only been over a decade since it was _your_ office."

Snape rolled his eyes, "They were in the armoire in the closet."

She laughed a generous laugh, "In that case, decade or no, they're still there. Exactly there."

He shook his head at her and shifted gears, "Where did you get these?" He asked holding up the flyers that Astoria had given her.

"Oh, Astoria Greengrass is a Healer." Hermione dove into what was arguably a longer explanation than required, "She and I worked closely together a number of years ago. I always think she wanted to be my actual friend more than I did hers. She's a nice girl and all, but you know not a lot of common life history. Slytherin. No offense, but wealthy Slytherins raise their daughters very differently than muggles do, so that gap of similarity always seemed big to me. Anywho, she got these from a rival potion company, and she wanted to know if I had heard." She nodded over to the small vial, "If what they're claiming is true, I will need to do some serious work on our Potion Line that supports Foundation, or else we will lose a ton of revenue." As an afterthought, she added, "I should Owl Draco. He needs to know, too. He's going to be livid, and he's always such a pain to deal with when he's upset."

Severus remarked casually, "I always thought those two, Draco and Astoria, would end up together."

Hermione nodded, "I still think it's in their future. They just both had a lot of life to live before they needed to settle down." She pointed to the potion. "What did you discover about it?"

Severus had always been fascinated by the intricate nature of potion work. It reminded him vaguely of the nights he had spent under his mother's feet in the kitchen as she worked to turn what little food there was in the cabinet into something edible.

"This potion is sophisticated, and the other information," he pointed to the brochure, "if it's everything it claims, you going to need some muggle scientists on your side and soon. This company appears to be working to bridge the gap between muggle medicine and chemistry with some interesting theories. I don't know how much is theoretical and how much of it is something tested." He mused for a moment and reached for a quill. He jotted down a note or two, added an equation, and sighed, "You know I think that there could be something to what they have. It's not entirely dissimilar to the properties I was working with when I made this time potion."

When a lightbulb went off in Hermione's brain, her whole face lit up. "We have to find out what they are doing, it could - " but it was as if the energy to collect the thought had sucked up whatever she had, and before she could fully finish her thought, her body began to slump over of its own accord. She made that same weak and guttural noise as she had before she passed out in the living room. This time she kept her consciousness.

"Shh-" Snape hushed her. "I know where you're headed, but we will never be able to use that brain of yours if your magic pulverizes it into goo from exhaustion."

Hermione's eyes widened, "Could that happen?"

Severus chuckled, "I mean, I'm sure technically it's possible, but you'd have to spend like a year immersed in Ancient Earth Magicks, so I imagine a few minutes shouldn't give you goo-for-brains."

Hermione began to swoon. Severus jumped up to cradle her head and neck in his arms. "To bed with you." Under other circumstances, this phrase uttered with her in his arms might have had drastically different repercussions, but for tonight at least, Severus Snape simply carried, a now passed out, Hermione Granger up all the stairs and placed her into her bed.

He ran the same diagnostic health spells that he had earlier in the day and confirmed that she was alive and doing okay. As he shut the door to the room, he said knowing she wouldn't hear, "Rest well Hermione, I am going to need you."

 _AN: What did you think? Let me know in your review. I appreciate them, and I consider them excellent fuel for continuing to post chapters :)_


	13. Headlines

_AN: Thank you to FrancineHibiscus, rlsa, RhodaBush, Calindy, Starry-Eyed Creator, Smithback, Zedoc, and Lucyole for feeding the review monster! And a great big thanks to you lovely people for putting this story over 200 for story alerts. This chapter is Snape heavy as we get his side of things. Hermione will rejoin us in chapter fourteen._

 **The Professor's Widow**

 **Chapter Thirteen**

 _Headlines_

Severus Snape walked around the office that was so familiar to him and yet so starkly different. He sat down and appreciated more fully than he had in the days prior the number of changes to the room. As with everything Hermione Granger had touched, there was an airy, lightness even in the midst of darkness. The brightness of the room didn't startle him as it had before, and now, the headlines that had shocked him upon his arrival in this time were finally that he could more fully comprehend and absorb.

 **Severus Snape Posthumously Awarded the Order of Merlin**

 **Second Wizarding War Heroine Patents Late Professor's Potions**

 **War Heroine, Hermione Granger opens the Severus Snape Foundation**

 **Hermione Granger named Potions Professor at famed Hogwarts School**

There were two clippings that didn't seem completely odd paired together, save for the fact that Snape knew the romantic history between Hermione and Ron.

 **The Boy-Who-Lived Married Ginerva Weasley**

And beside it

 **Ron Weasley Privately Wed to Lavender Brown**

Two full walls were covered in these covers and clippings, and alongside these main spreads, there were other smaller articles about the Foundation, potions and awards that she had won, but nothing that made full front page coverage it seemed.

Time elapsed slowly as he took them all in. He read each visible detail and learned even more.

Finally, his legs grew weary of standing and kneeling. As he sat down at the desk, he saw that there was a framed headline not hung on the wall for display; instead, this headline was framed to face the Professor sitting at the desk. It was a more private display, rather than the public ones along the walls. Unlike the numerous other prestigious news publications on the walls, this one on the desk was from the cover of ˆWitch Weekly"

The headline read: **Hermione Granger is the Professor's Widow**

Below it the subtitle read: _Ron Weasley claims his ex is practically married to a dead man_

The image on the front was a moving picture of Hermione in black flowing robes very similar to those he had worn when he was her professor. Her hair looked darker in this picture than it did, now, and the expression on her face was hard.

He turned the frame on its side to reach the back. He undid the clasps to see if the whole issue would greet him on the opening. Of course, the meticulous Hermione came through, and there was the pristine issue of the magazine before him. He chuckled slightly to himself imagining that if he pulled the other frames off the walls, they, too, would likely include entire copies of that days news. Perhaps, he mused, even, notes from her thoughts about the publication.

As he read the article, he got a sense of the time period the statement was made and a much bigger picture of the realities of Hermione's choices and decisions almost a decade before. The image of Weasley making the statement included in the magazine was one of anger. His face had nearly been as red as his hair in the picture. Things like Hermione working closely with Draco to set-up a foundation in his name and her preservation of his potions work had all just been small things that added up over time. This statement seemed to be the final end of the relationship between Ron and Hermione. The article pointed back to their many fights and reconciliations. In fact, the author had ended the piece questioning whether the great love story might still have a happy ending.

Considering the mere eighteen months between the publication date on the magazine and the  
"Ron Weds" Headline, Snape assumed that Ron's dubbing Hermione the Professor's Widow had done them in wholly. The monicker, it seemed, had also stuck, as he had noted that some of the more recent articles on the wall had made reference to it.

He put the magazine back into its frame, and decided that he better get on with his actual task and return to Spinner's End to check on Hermione. He stood to look for the armoire. He pulled open the door to the closet in the office.

Instantly, he was taken back - the smell inside the closet was vastly different than the clean and flowery scent in the outer space. It was his scent. The musty and dank dungeon smell that had grown to signify safety in his life. The shadowy closet walls were filled with his shelves, and there floated a number of repulsive looking things. Hermione had not done away with all of his things, it seemed that she instead had sent them all into the closet and shut the door.

Far in the back of the closet, sat an armoire. It was dust coated, and it looked mostly or maybe completely untouched. He wondered why she had not cataloged and sorted the items and contents of the armoire the way she had done with numerous others of his belongings. As he pulled his wand from its sheath, he realized that, perhaps, she had simply never discovered how to open this particular item. He had enchanted it with a series of wards, but also, half a dozen passwords.

He made swift work and dismantled them all, opening the door in just a moment's time. There untouched sat a dozen texts ranging from somewhat dark to pure evil and from recent to quite old texts. There were a couple additional journals written by him in the back of the shelves, as well as some rare ingredients. He removed the books, putting them into Hermione's famed beaded bag. He took a second look and grabbed the journals, too. He closed the doors, but only put in place a simple charm that he knew Hermione knew how to break. In a way, it was nice to know that no matter how much of his life had been exposed to Hermione through her own investigation that there were still pieces that had gone to the grave with him.

He returned to Spinner's End to find Hermione still sound asleep in her bed. He closed the door gingerly and tip-toed back down to the lab. The last several days had been a whirlwind of chaos, and Snape needed a quiet moment to brew. Brewing always brought him a sense of calm. It was consistent in an inconsistent world.

He laid the beaded bag on the workstation and reached for a piece of parchment that he had found in a prior search of the lab. On it was a version of a potion that he had created, but it had notes and additions. He wanted to brew what Hermione's notes added, and he quickly found himself lost in the heat and the vapors of the process.

Severus fully expected the lab door to swing open, and for a conscious Hermione to make her way through it. Alas, though, the night stretched on, and she did not. He turned his focus to one of the tomes that he had procured from his office closet. He needed more information from Hermione before he could really dig into the research about her specific condition, but he could at very least establish some of the more basic parameters (the ones that he couldn't recall by memory).

He took the book and climbed the stairs to find a more comfortable space to sit, and he found himself in the kitchen. Severus eyed the "clock" above the cooktop. It was a Weasley style clock, but it's one arm dictated that Hermione was safely at home. This device was not intended for use by a single woman, and he wondered if Molly and Arthur had gifted it to Hermione prior to she and Ron breaking up. It seemed a very Molly Weasley gift, full of promise to add many spinning hands to the face of it.

The night before when Hermione had disappeared into the floo with Ron, Severus had returned here to find the clock making a creaking noise as Hermione's lone hand on the clock face vacillated between "Hospital" and each time only briefly sticking on "Mortal Peril" for a split second, as if the clock couldn't quite decide.

In that moment, he had rushed to the large space of the kitchen table and called out, "Accio St. Mungo's map. Accio Scrying Crystal."

From recesses of the drawers in the house, these two items had flown into Snape's hands. With practiced ease, he swung the crystal over the map. It didn't settle on a location the first or second time. He sat in the chair with his face in his hands. Danger was nothing new to him, but this was different. All the years with the Dark Lord, he knew exactly what he was up against. In a world where Lord Voldemort wasn't the thing to fear, he wasn't sure what to be afraid of.

He summoned his strength and resolve. "Accio Hermione's dirty shirt." Within in a moment, a worn blouse came fluttering onto the table. He swung the Scrying Crystal across the blouse and then back across the map. This time it drew to the location that he had pulled her from. He didn't fully know what to expect until he got closer and closer to her location. He could feel the magic pulsing in the air; whatever, Hermione had done at St. Mungo's that night was something that would have consequences.

But now, sitting in the very same kitchen a day later, Severus sat reading an ancient text and beginning to speculate that his exact placement in time was beginning to feel coincidental, and coincidences were not something that Severus Snape put stock into.

 _*The description of the closet shelves is taken from the original description of Snape's office in Chamber of Secrets._

 _AN: Please continue to feed this review monster and to add this story to your alerts. Getting those notifications helps to fuel me to post. :) Thank you for your support!_


	14. Drunk

_AN: Thank you to SkyeMoor, lia. , FrancineHibscus, ASP-R21, Zedoc, Smithback, Huu, Lucyole, and rlsa for continuing to fuel this writer with your reviews! I was so pumped to hear that you guys enjoyed the last chapter. This one goes out to all you special people. Be forewarned the title isn't exactly what it sounds like._

 **The Professor's Widow**

 **Chapter Fourteen**

 _Drunk_

Hermione's eyes fluttered open and consciousness took hold of her senses. She had no concept of time in this moment, and she didn't know completely what day it was. Her head pounded inside her skull. She realized she was still fully dressed in crumpled and very wrinkled clothing from her visit to see Harry at the hospital.

She swung her legs around to the side of the bed and sat up tentatively, testing her strength. For lack of a better description, Hermione felt magically hungover. It was as if her magical core had gotten blissfully and completely, drunk as a skunk, and then it had puked up its magical guts into the wee hours, and woken dehydrated and fuzzy tongued.

She stumbled towards the master bathroom, and she looked sadly at the empty mirror. She found that missed her saucy Severus. Even though she had spent years trying to blast him from the mirror, she got gotten used to his cheeky commentary of her naked form climbing in and out of the bathe.

He would say things like, "Perky today, eh?" with the overdone eyebrow waggle. Or, "must be nippy out!" They were never highbrow statements like she imagined the real Snape would make.

She paused at the thought of it. _What would the real Snape say about her naked form?_

Everything since he had arrived had been so chaotic and complicated. She found that she hadn't had a chance to process what she was thinking or feeling. Her feelings had never been something she'd had to worry about when it came to Severus because he was dead, and it simply could not matter. But now, with him very alive and in the flesh, she did have to question, had she become obsessed with him. Was Ron very right that she had fallen in love with a dead man?

Her legs shook, threatening to give out from under her, and she shook her head in an attempt to actually clear her thoughts.

She pulled the wrinkled shirt over her head and leaned down to reach for faucet in the tub. Her back was to the open bathroom door, and before she could turn on the water, she heard the creak of the bedroom door in the distance.

"Hermione?" Severus called, "I heard noise up here." As he spoke, he was striding across the room, and he popped his head into the open bathroom.

Hermione turned to meet his gaze. She was still covered on top by her very simple, plain bra and on bottom by a rumpled skirt.

"Oh," was all he managed.

"Sorry," she spoke, barely above a whisper.

His eyes were dancing all over her skin, drinking her in, and finally they settled on the full extent of the scar that she had received the night of the fiasco in the Department of Mysteries so many years before. He looked blatantly at her marred skin.

Hermione didn't flinch under his stare.

Slowly, he stepped in closer to her, just as he had the night he read her diaries for the first time to explore the scar. That night he had pulled back the collar of her shirt, but that had felt clinical, now, this, here, it felt something quite opposite of clinical. It was vulnerable - for both of them. He reached out towards the line of the scar, but his eyes met hers. Without words, he asked for permission.

She could sense the unspoken request, and she nodded in agreement.

Severus reached forward. His pointer finger started at the line at the base of her neck and ran gingerly down across her collarbone and down further into the skin of her upper chest. A portion of the scar was hidden by her bra, but he traced the imaginary line that would connect it and ran his fingertip gently across her covered breast. He continued following the line until it stopped just above her navel and the waistband of her skirt.

His eyes flickered back up again to meet hers.

Her breathing was heavy, labored.

He trailed his finger back up the scar's path, slowing at the underwire of her bra. He dipped his head close to her ear, "Does it continue?" He paused, "Under there?" His finger was running along the underwire as he spoke.

She nodded, her hair tickling his very near skin as she did.

The Potion Master's hand with deft dexterity reached around to the clasp at the back of her bra. He paused again slowing before he actually undid the clasp.

She didn't tense, but instead, shifted her head slightly into him. He took that as the permission he sought, and with a swift move, released the hooks. The straps loosened at her shoulders with this release, and he eased them down over her arms.

Her bra fell to the ground, and Severus moved his head back to see her more fully. Her eyes were closed, perhaps a sign of some lingering insecurity of her body. He again took his pointer finger to the top of the scar at the base of her neck. He repeated his exploration of her scar. This time, however, there was nothing to impede his progress. He noted that the scar barely nicked the edge of her areola, missing the pert and perfectly pink nipple completely.

He ran his finger across her scar half a dozen times. Up, then down, back up again, and so on. Each time narrowly missing that most sensitive space on her lovely breast. "Merlin, you're beautiful," he said at long last.

Hermione's eyes opened. Her face was rosy with a blush and with arousal. She felt a bit dizzy at the sensations. She had felt hungover, but now, she felt positively drunk. And just like if she had been actually drunk, she teetered a little. Then, she tottered a little bit. She tried to catch her footing; her world suddenly feeling a bit spinny. She stumbled; Severus caught her and grabbed her around the waist in a very protective manner rather than a provocative one.

As his skin touched hers more fully, he gasped, "Woah, Hermione, you're burning up." His whole demeanor instantly shifting. He felt the small of her back with his palm. Standing her on her own two feet, he reached up to feel her forehead. He drew his wand. Twirling it, he took her temperature. "Damnit," he swore loudly, "Damnit, we've got to get you to the hospital now."

She grabbed his wrist forcefully. "No."

He looked at her and repeated his spell. "You could die. It's above 39 degrees."

She pleaded, "no, please." Her breathing focused, "Just, just let me take a cool bath. If it doesn't come down, I'll go." She looked away from him sheepishly, feeling very exposed. "It's all the magic and the-" she pointed back and forth between them, "this."

He thought for a moment, and quickly stepped around her half-dressed form to turn on the tap in the bath. His tone was stern and decisive, "I will be waiting outside the door. You have ten minutes. If you are not done and your temperature is not under 38 degrees, then I am busting in here, and I am carrying you in all your glory through the floo into St. Mungo's." He promptly walked out of the bathroom pulling the door closed behind him.

 _AN: I know it is a shorter chapter, but it was SO intense to write this scene. There is so much going on so many different levels between these two at this point in their lives. Also, the slow burn continues. (I hate stories that pace it out, then jump right to the gusto. Hopefully, you don't want to burn me instead.) Let me know your thoughts! I love reviews for writing fuel :)_


	15. Thank You, Sir

_AN: Thank you to FrancineHibiscus, ASP-R21, RhodaBush, PeridotStar, smithback, WizardSmurf, lia. , Zedoc, Aigo Snape, and Lucyole for your awesome reviews and support. I love that so many of you appreciate the slow burn._

 **The Professor's Widow**

 **Chapter Fifteen**

 _Thank You, Sir_

Severus was propped with his back against the small section of wall adjacent to the bathroom door before the edge of the dresser. He drummed his fingers idly against one another in front of his face.

Waiting was one of the skills that he'd had many opportunities to practice in his lifetime, but it didn't make the experience better. His face was stoic and unreadable when Hermione opened the door.

She was wearing comfortable lounge pants and a fluffy bathrobe. Her breathing was noticeably more even. Her skin appeared less flushed.

Severus didn't give her a chance to speak before waving his wand to diagnose her temperature.

"37.8," she declared with a sigh.

"And still right to bed with you," Severus replied.

Her face did that little scrunching thing that it did right at the crease of her eyebrows and forehead, the perfect reminder of the eleven-year-old version of Hermione Granger. "I've been in bed forever." She nearly lifted her foot in a pouting-stomping gesture, but the impulse was stymied by the stern look on Snape's face.

He didn't speak.

"Fine. I'll rest, but I don't want to sleep," she conceded, aware that her magic and energy were still quite lacking.

"I went to school and got those books I was after." He talked while she climbed under the plush covers. He tried to occupy his eyes with other details of the room, as she slid the fluffy bathrobe from her arms. "You had never opened that particular cabinetry?" He asked.

"No, there were always little things along the way that I just never seemed to manage or get to when you were, um- gone. I spent 5 years trying to figure out how to take down the wards against rain on the back porch."

"You wanted a wet porch?" He looked puzzled.

"No, Severus," she replied rolling her eyes, "I added a covering. Have you been out there since your return?" He shook his head in response, but she went on, "It was very unnatural for the rain to not fall on the roof. Besides the patio covering is tin, and the rain makes such a beautiful sound out there. But, yes, over the years, there have been loads of random little things like that. The ones in the castle have always seemed to be the ones that I had the most trouble and the least time to manage."

He summoned one of the plush armchairs to her bedside and the end table as well. "I'm going to go get those books, and we can begin trying to get a better picture of what is going on with you." He paused at the doorway of the room, "I think you need to eat a bite, too. Does anything sound appealing?"

Her eyes were drawn to his lips as he said the word appealing. She blinked when she realized she was staring, "Honestly, no. I don't feel much like eating."

"Toast, then. You can't starve."

Several minutes later, Severus returned with a floating tray containing: tea, toast, and a tower of book. However, Hermione's eyes were sealed shut, and a soft pur-like snore escaped from her body. He lowered the tray onto the nightstand and sat down in the very comfortable armchair. He watched her sleep for some time before he, himself dozed off.

The pair was woken by a loud voice and the sound of footsteps on the staircase. Severus defaulted to years of Death Eater training was standing, wand fully drawn, in a defensive position before he had even fully regained consciousness. Hermione was hindered by her ailing condition, and it wasn't until Harry Potter was fully in her bedroom at the wand-point of Snape that she opened her eyes.

There was shouting. Some spells were fired. Lights, crashing sounds… It was a few seconds of pure chaos. A lamp exploded, and then, Hermione pulled herself upright and stood atop her mattress so that she was towering over the two men.

"STOP!" Hermione's voice bellowed loudly over the cacophony of noise as a final piece of debris settled on the floor.

Their voices grew quiet, but neither man lowered his wand.

Severus Snape stood across from the spitting image of James Potter, though upon closer inspection Snape would later realize that Harry had outlived his father by a decade; and the worn crows feet at the edge of Harry's eyes showed that passage of time.

Harry wand arm was shaking slightly as he gripped tightly, and he shouted, "Somebody better start bloody talking."

"Why don't you lower your wand, Potter?" Severus asked in an icy tone.

"Like hell, am I lowering my wand." He looked at Hermione, "What is going on?"

"I can explain." She lifted her hands in the air a bit to indicate a gesture of surrender. She climbed down from the bed and sat on the side. "It's really him." She pointed. "That is the real genuine Severus Snape."

Harry's eyes narrowed on the man.

Hermione spoke calmly and quickly, "It's not polyjuice. He's not a zombie. It's just really him. He sent a copy of his DNA cell structure forward through time. This Severus comes from the beginning of our Sixth Year - 1996." She pleaded, "I promise. It's him. It's not a trick. I am not befuddled or imperius'd."

Then, she used the code that they'd had as teenagers. "My name is Hermione Jean Granger. I saved you from Bathilda Bagshot our 7th year, but she was Voldemort's snake and a horocrux. I don't like lemon pie. I almost got killed by a troll my first year."

She stopped, "Is that enough?"

Harry nodded and stared at Snape, but his unflinching faith in Hermione Granger caused him to lower his wand.

This, in turn, resulted in Snape sheathing his as well.

Everyone stood stalk still.

"Why don't we take this conversation downstairs to the living room?" Hermione suggested.

Harry made no indication that he was going to move, as he looked around. He raised his wand once again.

Hermione grimaced, but Harry simply swished it around and magically cleaned all the destruction and damage from the room leaving it even tidier than it had been before.

He then, turned on his heel, and led the way towards the living room.

Severus and Hermione were momentarily alone. "Well, I guess he knows, now."

Snape reached his hand out to help her off of the bed and onto her feet. "Yes, but certainly good that he came while we were sleeping," he met her eyes, "and not before." His eyebrow raised in a way that was so reminiscent of her mirror Snape that she giggled.

Her cheeks flushed pink, and she felt her pulse begin to quicken. She swatted at his shoulder, "You cannot say things like that! I might get feverish and pass out again."

He nodded, drew his expression into a more neutral look, and walked down the stairs slowly in front of her, so that if she were to take a tumble, he could catch her.

It seemed like there were getting good at this whole "reveal" process, as Snape guided her to the sofa, and immediately, excused himself to the kitchen to "make drinks". It was getting a little old hat to have the same conversation over and over with new people.

Severus was unskilled at puttering about and killed as much time in the kitchen by himself idly, for as long as possible, before gave up and finally walked into the living room empty handed.

When he did enter the room, Harry Potter stood and extended his hand, "Thank you, sir."

Severus looked on confused but still took his hand and shook. As they broke away, he asked, "What are you thanking me for?" His tone flat and unreadable.

"So many things." Harry sat back down, "You saved my life and gave up your own." He was using his hands to count. "You loved my mother and tried to save her, too. I was a complete wanker to you the whole time I was in school, and you still protected me." Harry, having run out of fingers to count on one hand let his hands gesture about as he spoke instead, "I didn't know who you really were until it was too late to tell you thank you for that all you sacrificed for me, and my family, and my friends, and the whole magical race, so while I have the chance, I wanted to be sure to tell you."

Shocking Severus Snape was a hard thing to do, but Harry had managed it quite well. Hermione could have sworn that there was a tinge of a blush of embarrassment in his angled cheeks.

It had been one thing for Draco to move into the role of peer because Snape had always imagined that one day such a natural transition might take place for them; however, becoming a peer with Harry Potter was unfathomable. So, Severus stood hovering over the sitting Hermione and Harry staring down at them in puzzlement.

Magic was far more magical than it had originally seemed. The potion that he had made that day in the lab had transported a copy of his cells forward in time, but that day, only a week or so ago for him, was years ago now, he could have never imagined these as his results.

Without his realizing it, Hermione and Harry had carried on talking. (Both still knowing better, than to disturb Professor Snape when he was deep in his thoughts.)

Harry was rolling up his sleeves to reveal alabaster and completely unblemished skin. "Every single rune gone."

"Those were magical tattoos, though. I can't believe that."

"It's good that not many people knew about them. I've been able to convince Ginny that it was just a side effect of the very strong healing potions that I was given."

"She's a witch, Harry. You really think she just believes that?"

"Yes," Harry scoffed, "Ginny is adamant that I leave my job. Keeps on about how this is the perfect time for a fresh start." Harry then, in an imitation of a high pitch voice, " _You're not as young as you used to be you know. You don't have to go looking for evil to protect the world from anymore, Harrrrrrry."_ He over-emphasized the "r" sound mocking his wife.

"Oh lay off - you know she's just worried about you. You did almost die you know!."

He pointed at Snape who was finally bending to sit on the other end of the sofa with Hermione. "It doesn't always seem to take with us lot, though, does it."

Hermione rolled her eyes, "Oh great, now you've realized that you're **both** once dead and twice alive, and we will never hear the end of it." She inclined her head towards Severus, "one of his favorite phrases."

Severus spoke, "Once dead and twice alive. I kind of like that."

Harry chuckled, "Two against one. I kind of like _that."_

Hermione sighed, "So, Harry now that all the commotion is over, what did you actually come by for?

"Hermione, you haven't Owled. You channeled an ancient Earth Magick and performed wandless ancestor spells to the Unforgiveables. You had enough power to remove magical rune tatttoos. Your hair is three decades longer than it should be; you look like a freaking mermaid. Must I continue?"

She put her hand up, "Please don't. I believe we all get it.

Snape pulled his wand and summoned the stack of books from the bedroom to the coffee table in front of them. "I recovered these from my old stores. I think that this one," he pulled a text from the center of the pile, "has the most information on what Hermione got herself into. I was planning on getting into all of this today." He looked at Harry, "She's having lots of symptoms of magical overdose and withdrawal all at once. It's troubling, but she doesn't want to go to St. Mungos."

Harry shrugged, "I mean I get that. What would she say?"

Hermione's face arranged itself into a smug smile.

"Well, what do you say gentlemen?" Hermione waved her hands over the books, "Feel like having a research party?"

Harry groaned, "Professor Snape and a Granger-Special-Research-Party? I feel like I really am back at Hogwarts."

This elicited a laugh, and they all began to dive into the stacks of books before them.

 _AN: Thank you for your continuing to read this story! Your follows and favorites mean so much to me! This story is one favorite away from triple digits :) I would love it if you would mark it a favorite for me and bump that baby on up._

 _Reviewers: Let me know how you feel about the Snape-Harry's interaction in this chapter. The thought that in his 30s Harry Potter would have outlived his father by a decade was a huge realization for me! I love hearing from you. Thank you!_


	16. The Powers

_AN: Thank you to FrancineHibiscus, Snaperipper, smithback, Lucyole, lia. , rlsa, SkyeMoor, Haveyouseenmyprefectbadge, Zedoc, Hermape, ASP-R21, and RhodaBush for your reviews and support of this story! It is your kind words that helps propel this writer to continue with this story._

 _I was so pleased that so many of you liked the Snape/Harry interaction in the last chapter. I can't wait to hear your thoughts on this plot-progressing chapter._

 **The Professor's Widow**

 **Chapter Sixteen**

 _The Powers_

Severus opened his eyes at the sound of a creak on the floor of his childhood bedroom. Despite staying up very late researching, Snape never slept so soundly that he didn't hear the smallest sounds. The darkness was like rich black velvet, as the moon was a silver of its silver-self in the night sky. A shadowy figure was moving slowly in the dimness, approaching him. He moved swiftly and had his wand at the ready, but as his eyes adjusted, he realized the figure lurking into his room was just Hermione.

"Hermione, are you ok?" he asked, concern evident in his voice.

She spoke to respond, but the voice from her lips was not her own. It was honey-sweet and richly-deep, "Hello, Severus." The 's' sound of his name was accented so that it lingered in the air, "It has been so very long since we've seen you. We have missed you."

The hair on the back of his neck was prickly and standing up. As she drew closer to him, he muttered a spell, "Lumos." The light shined in her face, and she blinked backwards. Snape looked at her, and he could see that her pupils were dilated into big black pools leaving almost no colored iris left to see. The veins in her face were easily identifiable through her very translucent skin. "Bullocks." He cursed.

"What's the matter Severus?" she taunted. Hermione's body was, now, at the edge of the bed, though he knew that she was not the one in control. She pulled one leg up and over and climbed on the bed until she was straddling Snape's prone form.

"You shouldn't be in control of this girl, but you already know that." His voice quiet.

Hermione's lip fell into a pout, and she ground her hips against him. "She's the one that summoned us." Her hips rocked, accentuating each word. "We can't help that her core keeps crying out to us for more and more and more power. She likes it." Hermione's tongue darted out across her lips moving slowly and intentionally in the light of the Lumos.

"Hmmm…," she ran her finger lightly along the stubble of his jawline. "Something isn't right here."

Severus shuddered under her delicate touch.

"You don't belong here, darling," her voice gravelly. "Something is wrong with each-," she stabbed at his nose, "and every-," poking at his forehead, "cell in your body." She swayed her hips around slowly.

Despite his full knowledge that Hermione Granger was not in control, her body's movements were causing a biological reaction from his physical form. He could feel the powerful energy pouring from her body. He couldn't focus on her accusations.

"I could fix you, you know?" She goaded. "I could fix you right up." Her eyebrows lifted to exaggerate the double entendre as she drifted her palm onto the exposed skin of his chest.

Severus reached out, yanking her hand off of his skin, and took hold of her forearms to still her movements. She was hot to the touch; he trembled against his own self-control. The lust and tension was building in the atmosphere, and Snape was about to cross lines and boundaries that he would be unable to return from. The edge of that cliff was drawing nearer and nearer. She was humming a dangerous little diddy and leaning close to his face. Her hair draped around them like a curtain, and his grip on her arms had loosened completely. Her breath was ragged above him.

Then, her movement stilled, and there was a split second that saved them both. Her eyes flashed full color. Her body stilled completely, and the real Hermione Granger called out from beneath the magical smothering, "Help me."

This single second was all Severus Snape needed to snap out of the trance he had been in. His wand arm straightened and his grip tightened, and he fired a series of spells.

The real Hermione Granger slipped beneath the surface again, and _the_ _powers_ controlling her waved away his spells with ease.

"Oh Sevvy, do you want to fight?" She sprung off of him and the bed and onto her feet. She pointed her finger at him; she gestured up, and Snape's body began to lift from the bed. He returned fire with another set of spells, but she continued to swat them away like gnats.

She looked up to his face, now, hovering in the corner. He hands moving with blurred speed, "I'm not sure you should keep on wasting your magic like that, darling. I can see your insides losing their luster with every spell you fire," she provoked. "I am serious. I can save you from yourself. I can give you the power you crave." His spellwork slowed.

She continued, "I can give you this hot little body." He snapped. He fired on her relentlessly.

The fighting continued, and _the powers_ had Snape floating nearling at the ceiling in the corner of the room. He was still firing off spells at rapid speed, but she continued to knock them to ground in a fizzle. Finally, Snape did the most unexpected thing.

"POTTER." He yelled loudly, knowing that Harry Potter was asleep in the living room on the couch.

Rushing into the room, shirtless, with his wand at the ready, came Harry Potter - missing his signature glasses. "What the - ?"

Hermione pointed her finger at him, and Harry, too, found himself propelled into the air floating near the ceiling across from Snape. Without conversation, Harry began to fire spells at his clearly possessed best friend. Both men fired upon the girl, spell after spell. Missing their target as she waved the spells away or danced past the shimmery lights of the magic. She was laughing at their efforts but doing little to retaliate.

They were both panting and beads of sweat were forming at the edges of their faces, but _the powers_ did not seem to be growing tired.

Something had to give.

There was a nod (imperceptible unless you knew it had happened between the two men). Harry waited until Snape distracted her with a fast series of red, purple, and finally black blurs of magic, and then, Harry levitated the night stand, sending a lamp, a glass of water, among other things clattering to the floor, and without warning, without hesitation hurled it magically at Hermione's laughing form.

This unexpected move did the trick, as _the powers_ underestimated Harry's ability to do actual harm to his friend. Hermione's body fell unconscious to the floor with a thud, surrounded by pieces of the nightstand.

Harry and Snape fell unceremoniously from the air. Harry to the floor of the bedroom, and Snape to the cushion of the bed.

Harry was the first one on his feet. He threw a spell to bind Hermione's limbs and another just to be certain that she was unconscious. He turned to look at Severus. "What the hell just happened?"

Snape replied while struggling to catch his breath, "I don't think Hermione is allowed to do anymore of the research."

Harry looked puzzled, "What do you mean?"

"Everything we did last night, everything we read - stirred this up in her. She's deeper in the shit than I thought." His face cast down. "She didn't just summon the ancient Earth Magicks when she saved you the other day. She summoned the Origin." Snape pointed to the door. "We are going to need coffee. We have a lot more than a damned research party to do, and she cannot be a part."

Harry nodded unsure what Snape meant about 90% of what he'd just said, but Harry Potter knew better than to argue with Snape. "I'll get her upstairs."

"Better lock her in and up to be safe. Then, meet me in the kitchen," Snape said.

Severus walked through the doorway first and spun back around on his heel to look at Harry magically cleaning blood from small wounds on Hermione's face from the nightstand. "On second thought," Snape added, "after you lock her up call Draco and Minerva. We are going to need more hands than just yours and mine, and we need to move swiftly. Too many days have past as it is." His words trailed off without seeming like he had actually finished talking, and he walked off muttering to himself, " _How did I not see it? No wonder, it was calling me to the damn closet. Blood-soaked hair, how could you have been so stupid Severus."_

Once Snape had left the scene, Harry allowed himself one human moment of chaos and terror in his head as he patched up the cuts and scrapes on the body of this best friend. A tear leaked from his face before he forced his emotions back into the cage he had long ago created to house the harsh realities he had faced in his lifetime.

Once upon a time, he had been a boy who thought that there was only one big bad in the world, and that once he died the world would be darkness-free. His work as an Auror had showed him that if you dove deep enough into just about anything, you can find the face of the darkness.

He pulled himself upright and reached down to lift Hermione into his arms. He carried her the Muggle way in his arms up the stairs. It was what felt right for the woman that was basically his sister. He spoke into her hair as he carried her. "We've got you 'Mione. We will figure this out. We always save each other somehow." A smile tugged at the corner of his lips, as he thought back to the first time he had saved the life of the girl in his arms. The small, eleven-year old Hermione terrified looking up at that troll seemed so long ago.

Two decades past, and they were both still saving each other's skin. Harry tucked her back into her bed and doubled the spell on her bindings. "Sorry, love," he whispered and snuck out of the room.

 _AN: Eeeks, this chapter was a nerve-wracking one to post. PLEASE let me know your thoughts in a review. Thanks for reading, favoriting, and following!_


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